Swept Away: The Life and Times of a Girl Pirate
by Miss Myrtle360
Summary: When Lily Evans finds out she's engaged to Snape, she disguises herself as a boy and joins a ship's crew, only to be attacked and captured by the cunning and devilishly handsome James Potter. Will Lily be able to keep her secret safe in a sea of men?
1. Prologue

A/N: Ok, yes, I know I really should be working on Twises, and that I probably won't be able to handle doing two fics at once, but I've been reading all of these books about pirates and witches and all of those things, and I sorta added all of those together and came up with this. I really wanted to do it, and since I'm suffering from serious writer's block on Twises, I decided to go for it.

I owe this story to Pirates by Linda Leal Miller, the Bloody Jack books by L.A. Meyer, The Third Witch, by Rebecca Reisert, Drink Up Me Hearties by Shattered Serenity and Storm of Love by Insania ruin gowr. (Awesome fics. I absolutely suggest them.) Their stories have inspired me to write a new one of my own.

Just so you know, this is a prologue. The rest of the fic will be from Lily's POV.

Well, onto the fic, then!

Disclaimer: I have at the moment $17.93 to my name. If that makes me richer than the Queen of England, than sure, I'm JKR.

* * *

It was a cold November morning in London, England, when Mistress Violet Evans, the governor's wife, found a small girl, her skin and ragged dress streaked with mud and other, less pleasant things, wandering the streets.

Being the kind-hearted woman that she was, the governess took the girl to the place where she, her husband John Evans, the governor, and their daughter of seven, Petunia, were staying. After having the girl scrubbed raw and put in a clean, white cotton dress, Violet took her to her husband.

"Who may I ask is this?" The governor asked, glancing over his paper at the little girl, who was standing still and straight, almost defiantly.

"I found her, John, out wandering the streets. I believe she's an orphan." Violet replied, patting the young girl's head softly.

John laid down his paper and leaned forward towards the girl. "Where are your mother and father?" He asked in a kind voice.

"I ain't got none," the girl replied coarsely, her narrowed eyes staring directly into the man's.

"What's your name?" John questioned further.

"Lily Thompson," was the reply.

"How old are you?"

"Four."

"Do you have any family?"

"No, they all died 'cause a' the plague."

"Do you know where your parents were from?" John asked, glancing at the girl's fire-colored hair and her electric green eyes.

"Me mum's Irish, pa's English."

"Well, that'd explain the eyes and hair," the governor said, leaning back in his chair. He looked at his wife. "May I ask why you brought her here?"

Violet, laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "She was wandering around and alley, covered head-to-toe in dirt. Winters in England aren't merciful. She will die if she stays out there."

"So you're suggesting…?" John asked, knowing fairly well what the answer would be.

"That we keep her as our own daughter. Think of it John. Those from lower classes see you take in an orphan from their midst and raise her yourself. They'd be humbled by your kindness and generosity. And you know how I love children, and Petunia could always do with a playmate."

"So you're suggesting that we adopt her into our family, raise her to be one of the noble class, and at the same time show people our generosity and therefore earn myself the position of governor for many more years?" John asked, wiping his glasses off with a white cloth napkin

"Yes," Violet replied breathlessly. "Oh, please, John, look at her. Could you just cast her back to the streets to freeze to death? Even if she did survive the winter, how would she survive longer? Where would she find food, shelter? If we turn her out, we'd be banishing her to her death, or worse," her voice lowered to a whisper. "The whore houses."

John surveyed his wife over his glasses, then looked down at the little girl. "Miss Lily? How would you like to live in our home with my wife, our daughter and I? You'd have fancy dresses, many toys, someone to brush your hair every morning, good food, someone to play with, and everything else you may want. Would you like that?" He asked, watching as the little girl stared back at him, apparently weighing her options.

"…Then, you'd be me mum and pa?" She asked, scratching her left ear in an adorable sort of matter.

"Yes," Violet said bending down until she was level with the young girl. "Yes, I'd be your mother, and John would be your father, and Petunia would be your older sister. Would you like that?"

The girl turned her bright eyes to Violet. After a minute, she nodded her head.

"Oh!" Violet said, hugging the girl tightly. "Oh my, Lily, you will love it. I promise."

Lily smiled and put her arms around her new mother's thin neck. "Okay."

The next day, the Evans family departed back to their large London estate, taking little Lily with them.

* * *

Life became quite perfect for Lily once she was adopted into the Evans family. She had a new mother and father who cared for her very much, to have saved her from the streets. She had a sister who played with her very often, always taking Lily's creations of imagination and turning them into a fun adventure for the two. Her new home was full of servants who laughed at her antics and always gave her treats when she wanted. 

As Lily got older, however, she found that there were some things about life in the upper classes that she did not enjoy. Embroidery was one of them. Her lessons in becoming a lady were another. Who cared if you could set a proper table or sew an entire dress? Certainly not Lily.

Petunia also became more hostile towards Lily than she had ever been, and the servants said it was jealousy. Apparently, Lily was much prettier than her older sister and always got her way, while Petunia was shunted to the side like some old rag doll.

Then, when Lily was thirteen, Petunia was married to a horrid man by the name of Vernon Dursely. On the day of the wedding, Petunia had been sobbing in her room, and when Lily tried to comfort her, Petunia had shrieked, "It's _your _fault that I have to marry him! I wanted to marry Patrick Connors, God knows his family is rich enough for everyone's taste, but no, he doesn't want to marry me, he wants to marry _you_! _You_, the brat from the streets, the girl who sold herself as a whore before you tricked my stupid parents into taking you in and ruining _my_ life!"

Lily couldn't help it. She slapped Petunia hard across the face, her hand stinging. She looked at her sister, seeing the _real_ Petunia for the first time. "I would have died before selling my body, Petunia," she said, her tone harsh and cold. Petunia flinched. "You'd do well to remember that. And I did not trick _our_ parents into keeping me. If you have such a problem with me, then go off and marry your Patrick Connors or any of the men you keep fluttering your lashes at, but stay away from me."

With that, Lily turned her back on her sister and walked out of the room, but not before hearing her say, "No one will believe you're not a common wench. You look the part so well." Lily kept walking, not letting on how much her sister's abandonment hurt her.

* * *

It was three years later that Lily found herself sitting in her family's dining room, wearing her nicest dress and making forced conversations with a disgusting man called Severus Snape – the man she was betrothed to. 

The entire time that the two sat there, Snape's eyes kept roaming Lily's body, making her squirm as her hatred of this man increased.

Apparently, he was the son of an Italian ruler, and, seeing as how no one else in England seemed to have a daughter that appealed to him quiet as Lily did, their marriage was arranged.

The governor and his wife stood in the hallway, watching and listening to their daughter's interchange with Snape. "We can't make her marry that - man," John said jerkily, watching the way the other man eyed his youngest daughter. "She obviously doesn't care for him in the slightest."

"Lily will marry Severus Snape, and she will be happy about it." Violet replied in such a cold manner that John looked over at her. "After all, his family is one of the richest in Italy, and her marriage to him will not only give her great wealth and position, it will also lead to peace within our nations. Lily will marry him." Violet eyed her daughter's reactions coldly. There was some truth in the rumor that Violet was also jealous of Lily, only the reasons why were less clear than Petunia's.

"I will not," Was Lily's reply to her mother telling her that she'd make a lovely wife to Mr. Snape several hours later. "I refuse to marry that man. I _refuse_."

Violet's eyes narrow and turned cold. "You _will_ marry Severus Snape, you selfish little brat, you _will_!" She screeched, grabbing Lily's long red hair and yanking it down, taking satisfaction in her daughter's cries.

John wrenched his wife's arms from his daughter's hair and pulled her away. "What is the matter with you?" He snarled at her as shesnarled manically at him.

"Oh sure, take _her_ side, you always do! It's always 'Lily this' and 'Lily that'. What about _my_ happiness? What about what_ I_ want? Lily _will_ marry that man and we will have a share of his wealth. I don't care whether she wants to or not! I'm her mother and she must obey me!" Violet said, trying to claw her way out of her husband's arms.

Lily stared at her mother with tears streaming down her face. Why was her whole family suddenly turning against her? First Petunia, now her mother... It was merely a matter of time now before she would be forced to marry a man she didn't like in the slightest. But Lily would not marry him. She wouldn't be used as a puppet the way Petunia had been. Not for money, not for all of the jewels in the world. Lily clenched her fists and glared at Mrs. Evans. "If all I am to you is a way to gain money so that you can maintain this," Lily gestured around the extravagant room, "Then you are no mother to me, just as Petunia isn't my sister. I will not be sold off to a man just so that he'll throw money into your dainty little hand. I refuse to marry that - that man, and there's nothing you can do to me that will make me change my mind."

"You _bitch_!" Violet screamed at Lily, who didn't flinch. "You _will_ marry Severus Snape, or I will lock you in your room and starve you until you do! You will _not_ disobey me! I am your mother! Do you forget who plucked you off of the streets and put you in this house? Do you? It was ME! I did it, and I regret that decision every minute of my life!"

"Well at least there's something we have in common!" Lily yelled back, trying to ignore the hurt look that crossed her father's face at her words. Lily turned on her heel and ran up to her room, locked the door, and proceed to pull out a trunk and stuff all of her absolute essentials into it -several dresses, a pen knife, a brush, a picture of her father, and over coat, flint and steel, a small lantern, a small gold pocket watch, her locket, a quill, parchment, and a small stash of food that had previously been hidden in a drawer.

Very quietly, snuck into her servant, Nelly's room, which was connected to hers. She took a dress from Nelly wardrobe, leaving a note explaining what had happened and that she was leaving. She ran back into her own room, quickly shed her beautiful dress and replaced it with Nelly's, which fit fairly well. Lily plaited her long hair and stuffed it up into a bonnet, making sure than none of it could be seen, knowing all too well that everyone within the vicinity knew of her wild red locks.

Lily tied a small leather pouch filled with small gold coins around her waist and she came up with a plan: She leave the house, disguised as a servant, get a room at an inn, sell her dresses and other worldly possessions. But Lily knew that she could never get along in the world as a girl. Violet had been quite right when she said that she'd saved Lily from the whore houses, however much Lily hated to admit it.

Then it dawned on her. Lily would disguise herself as a boy. Cut off her hair, buy boys' clothes - it would work. Glancing down at her chest Lily ran back to her maid's room and grabbed a large roll of dressings. She was small enough, she could wrap the dressings around her chest and no one would ever know what hid beneath. Then she'd get a job doing something - anything - that could get her away from England without anyone noticing her. She'd work on _that_ later.

That night, as her parents slept, Lily left the governor's house with no intention of ever returning again. _What a way to spend your seventeenth birthday..._

* * *

A/N: So, what'cha think? Is it worth continuing? I really hope so… 

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	2. Goodbye, Female Life

A/N: Yo! It's a miracle - I actually updateed in TWO DAYS. Amazing...

Thanks to all those who reviewed, specifically triquetraperson, clare, Fairy-lou, Lady Gallatea Ravenclaw, echo-waters, grandmaster p, Dernhelm-caorann, Daisy Pixie, Elfsquire90, Green Animelover, Kit49, chubbypotato, amrawo, Ulitheal, MiSs WeStHoFf HeRsElF, MsMissProngs, Saigo no Megami,and LilJester. Glad you liked it!

Ok,I know this is gonna dissappoint a lot of you, but the Marauderers aren't gonna make an appearance until around the tenth chapter.I know it sucks, but it can't be helped...Also on this subject, I have another fic called Twised Roses (Twises.) that I'm working on now as well. The update schedule will go like this:two chaps of Swept Away (SA), thenone of Twises. So I'm not gonna update really quickly after this chapter. I'm sorry, but again, it can't be helped. So don't bug me too much about updating, becauseif I update at all, it's a miracle.

It's so random, but I'm listening to a song called Mrs. Potter's Lullaby. Ironic, huh?

Well, onto chapter two!

Disclaimer: Do I even have to say it? Why would I be on if I _was_ JKR?

* * *

I have no idea what I was thinking. There is absolutely no way this is going to work. 

First off, I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to survive life on the streets. Sure, I have food with me and a little bit of money, but what happens when that runs out? My God, I'm so bloody stupid.

After I got off my parents' property, I went directly down to the Pig and the Pardoner, the local inn. I got a room for a very low fare that has a somewhat large, scratchy bed, a water basin on a dark wood stand, a mirror hanging over another dark wood table, and small fireplace, where a small flame is currently cracking. I close the door then went to sort through all of my belongings, which consisted of three fine dresses and then the one I took from Nelly, all to sell. Now I must buy boy's clothing and find some sort of job. Something that'll help me get out of here, because I sure as hell won't be hard to find in this port.

Mother - that horrid woman, would smack me if she could hear what I'm saying. Once Petunia swore, and she washed her mouth out with soap. The memory makes me shiver. Petunia lying there, gasping as her entire insides were filled with water. I can't believe I ever thought of my mother as a good person. She may have saved me from becoming a prostitute, but she made me live with her - a fate far worse in my opinion.

Everyone who saw my family - my fake family - would have seen the very picture of perfection. There was my father, rich, handsome, the bloody governor of the bloody area (What was I saying earlier about my language?), and one of the most naive and gullible men in the entire country. (But no one else knew that.) Then there was mother, young, beautiful, refined, a little socialite, and caring. (Insert snort here.) Petunia, the older sister, while not incredibly attractive, (Ugly, is what they really mean.) is educated, proper, caring, (I must see someone about this snorting problem.) and "a lovely catch". (Their words, not mine.) Finally there's Lily, the youngest of the bunch, yet the most beautiful, (I'm serious, they actually say this about me. I wonder if they're all blind...) kind, educated, a tad on the wild side, but what man wouldn't want to marry an adventurous girl? (Obviously the good ones.) My "family", the perfect, _bleeding_ _perfect_ family. It's too bad no one saw what we were really like.

Basically, my family, in _reality_, was like this.

Father, while being kind and caring and all of those things, was very, very busy. So busy, that he didn't notice that his "loving, caring" wife was slowly losing her pretty little mind over being a mother. She bit off way more than she could chew, marrying an older man for his money, then being so lonely with her own daughter, too ugly to go out, (Which is what she actually screamed to Petunia once. I felt bad for her then. Petunia, not mother. Mother is such a loving term. I'll call her Violet from now on.) that she adopted a young, naive little me and tried (Vainly.) to raise me as one of her own - to be refined, socialistic, and indifferent. Then when she discovered that I was more beautiful than her, (Once again, not my words.) she began to hate me and resent the day she ever found me in that alley. My father, too blinded by his love for his wife and daughters respectively, never stopped the arguments, until, that is, they got ugly.

So, to conclude my life story, my sister is married to a pig, which she blames and hates me for. My father, the only one I've ever loved since my _real_ family died, will never see me again because he let his love of the three girls in his life delude him to reality. My moth - Violet has officially lost her mind in my books and will hopefully be committed before the month's end. Honestly, I think I'm the least deranged after all of this, and I came off of the streets. Makes you wonder about the rich, huh?

My picture of my father is laying on the bed, along with the dresses. I pick it up, smiling as I recall the day the picture was taken. My mother insisted on getting family shots when I was nine. We were all decked out in our finest silks and I had to sit still for two hours while the hairdresser tried to tame my wild red locks. The only reason my father was smiling in the portrait was because I was running around pell-mell trying to escape the clutches of the woman trying to powder my nose. Father hates getting his picture taken, as do I.

It takes me a moment to realize that I'm crying, my hands shaking as I hold the frame so tight it's close to breaking, my breath fogging the glass. I set the picture back down on the bed and dry my face with my skirt.

What was I thinking? I will never escape the life my parents chose for me. I'm destined to rot in the prison that is high society.

"No," I say aloud, the first words I've spoken since entering my room. "No...I can escape. I can _survive_."

The next morning, I went down to the dress shop and sold my gowns for a total of four pounds six and seven shillings. More than I expected seeing as they weren't even that fine.

* * *

What people fail to realize is that I am not the fragile little flower that many believe me to be. 

As I went to the counter in clothing store to purchase my boy clothes, the owner gave me a wary look and asked whether I was lost or if I thought I was a lad, and when I asked him what he meant, he told me that I was in one of the worst parts of town, and I must be stupid to be alone.

I doubt he realized that he insulted me, but my voice took on a frosty tone as I paid for my new wardrobe and thanked him for his concern.

You see, when I was on the streets, I had to fend for myself. Nobody bothered to ask how long I was out there, but I think the answer would have shocked them. My parents died in July, and it wasn't until November that Violet found me. I had managed to fend off all the rats - real and metaphorical - for five months before I was found. I knew how to take care of myself at age four, so why would I not be able to thirteen years and nearly three feet more in height later?

Alright, yes, I know that no woman of noble class can fend for herself, but I'm not exactly noble, am I?

I started taking archery lessons at age seven.

I took fencing lesson since I was thirteen.

I can disable a man twice my size in seven seconds flat. Yes, I actually was attacked and yes, I actually timed it.

All of this I did without my parents' knowledge. Shows you what a greatly refined daughter I was, huh?

Anyway, I can look after myself. People worry too much. Then there are those who don't worry at all, and they're the ones I'm beating up.

What I lack is courage. And courage is a lot more important for what I'm about to do.

When I return to my room at the Pig and the Pardoner, I lay my purchases out on the bed. I bought one very large shirt to wear for sleeping, three smaller shirts, but in a style that I can use to hide my hips, three pairs of trousers, each somewhat skin tight, but with enough lead way as to, again, hide my hips, then a brown, used jacket and a red vest. I can't look too rich, or I'll be jumped in the streets and carried off by body stealers. Amazingly, after purchasing all of this, my leather purse is still nearly full. Men have it so much easier.

Now comes the hard part. There is a mirror hanging above the chipped water basin in my room. I walk over to it and take off my bonnet. My hair in still hanging in its braid, all long and slightly disheveled. My hair isn't orangey red, like the typical color of Irishmen's' hair. My tresses area mixture of auburn and red, so it looks like some sort of orange rose. It curls and lands around my hips.

God, I love my hair.

I only like my eyes better. They're green, but the shade depends on my mood at that time. Sometimes, when I'm happy or focused on something, they are a deep emerald green. Other times, when I'm angry or excited, they are electric. I think my eyes scare some people, but I love how they contrast with my hair.

What am I doing, rambling on like this? I have to do this. Too bad I'm so damn scared.

I comb my fingers through my braid and let my hair fall down around me, hating how mature and womanly it makes me look. I grab my penknife from a small table and stare at myself in the mirror.

Stalling won't make it go by faster.

I grab a chunk of hair and, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes tight, I chop it off up to my chin. I open my eyes and grab another chunk, measuring it to the same length as the last.

Soon, my feet are covered in my hair. My beautiful hair. I look in the mirror and gasp.

I look like a boy in a dress. With a few womanly features I don't really care to mention. Some reckless thrill comes over me, and I start laughing._ I look like a lad_.

I pick up my dearly departed tresses and throw them into the fireplace. I cough at the smell and open a window, hoping no one will come up to investigate. Apparently the owners don't care who's burning what in their inn, just so long as they get paid. No one come up.

Skirting out of the way of my window, I slip out of my dress and grab my roll of dressings. I carefully bind my chest flat, making sure that it's loose enough to breathe out of. I should have just worn a corset. They feel about the same. I turn sideways and look at my profile in the mirror, examining my handiwork.

It's a miracle. I'm actually flatter than I was. (Ah, it's so nice to be able to speak as crudely as I want.)

I find away into the rest of my clothes and again check myself in the mirror. Unless someone runs their hands down my wais, I decide, no one will ever be able to tell I'm a girl. My bosom's bound and my hips are hidden. I lean back onto my bed with a sigh. _Maybe this isn't so crazy_, I think with a smile.

* * *

A/N: Ah, another chapter down, many, many more to go. I'm thinking this is gonna be a long one... 

Well, please review! If you don't, I'll hunt you down... -Gets scary glint in eyes-

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	3. Opening New Doors

A/N: Yayness! An update!

I've been having a lot of dreams about this fic. (Yes, I dream about my fics. Thanks for pointing out that fact that I have no life.) You have _no idea_ how much I've been wanting to update this. I hope it's worth it...but I made a promise to my Twises readers, and I don't generally go back on my promises. So I'm sorry for taking forever. -Pouts- Can you forgive me?

Blah...so who else feels like this month's going by too slowly? I can't wait for spring. I live in Michigan, which is about as far north as it gets for the U.S. (Except for Alaska, of course.) But today, the temperature hit 56 F (24 C), and everyone was outside. It's technically still snow season for us, so 56 F means that either everyone is somehow on the wrong month on the calender, or global warming is seriously starting to affect us.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, specifically Fairy-lou, triquetraperson, grandmaster p, GSCer, x LiL jEsSi x, Daisy Pixie, MsMissProngs, Zemmie,xfallsofastx, Elfsquire90, socal4ever, morgim1103, echowaters, Queenofrootloops, amrawo, Saigo no Megami, Ghostly Angelic, asdfjkl;, molldollbaby, serindraxx, misscusine, boiz, goodie2shoes19, and rubberband11! As for the 231 of you who didn't review... -Sticks tongue out- I go through all this trouble writing new chapters for you guys, and you can't even write up a simple, "Love it" or even "You and your fic suck". Honestly...

Well, that's about it. Onto chapater 3!

Disclaimer: Ok, raise your hand if you seriously think that Lily and James live on a pirate ship in the late 1790's. -Crickets chirp- Didn't think so. Then no one needs me to tell them that I'm making all of this up purely for my own (And several other people's) enjoyment? No? Good.

* * *

My first day as a boy starts before dawn when I wake up from the horrid nightmare I was having. 

It was, however much I hate to admit it, about that conniving little git that is Severus Snape.

I dreamed that he had found me and had taken me back to my parents, then demanded to have me as his own. (And not in the marriage sense, if you know what I mean.) And of course, being that it was after all a nightmare, my parents conceded, saying that it would be a dream come true, and I'm not lying, to "get rid of that dratted girl and live like fat pigs off the money we'll get from her marriage."

He then took me back to his manor and was just about to...have his way with me when I awoke.

God, why the hell do nightmares have to feel so bloody _real_? (Ah yes, my vocabulary is _indeed_ increasing.)

This seems more like an omen. Maybe I really shouldn't be doing this. Maybe...I shake my head. Maybe pigs can fly. I should have a medal in doubting myself. I _do_ practice a lot...

_There's no turning back now_, I think as I climb out of bed. I can see faint streaks of pink crawling their way up to the heavens through my window, which means that dawn is coming. I must leave this place before too many people are out and about. It would probably case alarm if I came into the inn as a girl and left as a boy.

Best leave while I have the chance.

I get dressed in my new clothes, checking again in the mirror to make sure that none of my...womanly features can be seen. The only thing that someone might comment on is that fact that I do look a bit too _pretty_ for a lad, but with luck, people may just assume it's because I'm young.

In my trunk, I have a good-sized cloth sack. I pull it out an proceed to put all of my worldly possessions in it - my extra change of clothes, my spare dress (Just in case), my grandfather's old pocket watch, my pen knife (How Violet would scream if she knew I had such a thing), my brush, my father's portrait, some flint and steel, my tiny lantern, my gold locket, a quill, some parchment, and a little bit of food.

While I was shopping yesterday, I found an inexpensive book that seemed interesting enough, so I bought it. I, of course, know how to read. My father made sure that Petunia and I were well taught not only in the ways of a lady, but also in French, Geography, reading, obviously, and Mathematics. He also got us up on horses whenever he had the chance. Petunia hated horses, but I liked riding them - feeling the wind fly through my hair, the horses muscles rippling under my legs...But reading is by far my greatest pastime. If there was a way to read one's self to death, I'd find it.

I glance at the book, knowing very well that it will only add to my load and it's probably best to leave it here, but...I grab it anyways.

Alright, so I have difficulty parting with my stuff. Who doesn't?

When everything's snug and secure in my bag, I glance around the room, just to be sure I have everything. There is nothing left there but what had been in the first place. I'm a tidy guest.

I take a deep breath, walk to the door and turn the bronze handle.

There's nothing like opening the door to a new life...

* * *

I have just had breakfast at a slightly dingy place called The Raven's Roost. I had beef stew, which actually turned out alright, and came with a hunk of bread and some cheese. It's all very filling, but there's also something about the stew and the pub itself that feels...familiar. 

It is now 8:00, according to the old grandfather clock in the pub. I would have taken out my pocket watch, but there were several shady looking characters in that place, and I didn't want to chance it being stolen.

As I was eating my breakfast, I came up with a story for myself.

My name is Christopher Thompson. I'll use my birth father's last name. It's common enough to not be questioned. Besides, people would wonder if I used my current last name, especially with my noticeably red hair. It's a bit conspicuous.

Anyway...

I'm fifteen years old. That'll make up for my high pitched voice and girlish face. Plus, I'm tall for a girl at five feet and nearly six inches, but that won't cut it if I was to use my real age of seventeen.

I'm the son of a farmer who recently died, taking the rest of my family with him. That, like my first last name, is also common enough. Besides, it's true.

I only recall a fair bit from my pre-Evans life, but there are some things. Like, I remember having two older sisters...Claire and Emily, I think. My father was a farmer - that they know from records - and I remember going out with my sisters and milking cows. That's nearly all I can recall - after all, I was only four when they all died...

Then there was my mother. I can almost picture her now, as I walk down the cobble-stone roads to the main part of town. I remember that she was always so...beautiful, and kind, oh yes, she was kind. She'd never once laid a hand on me, unlike the pathetic excuse for a mother I'd had until recently.

I scowl at my thoughts. Why had _my_ family been cursed with a sickness no one could cure, and why, God, why didn't they take me _with_ them?

I feel my eyes prick and I blink furiously. No one can see me cry. First off, boys don't cry. It's like an unspoken rule or something. Second, I won't shed tears for people who died so long ago. They're gone, and blubbering about it won't make them come back.

While caught up in my thoughts, I'd walked smack dab into the main part of town. There are little shops with lead-glass windows with wondrous things sitting behind them, just waiting to be bought. It's a very interesting sight to take in.

I've obviously never been to town before, could you tell? Violet wouldn't allow it, but who gives a fig what she thinks anymore? Certainly not me.

The town sits directly next to the ocean. A long pier with many grand ships fills the harbor. They bob merrily in the wind, the flags atop them fluttering around helplessly in the wind.

My thoughts are interrupted by a group of young boys, who run past me, bumping against my shoulder. "Hey!" I yell as I stagger to maintain my balance.

"My apologies," a boy shouts, turning around. He's wearing the most dingy clothing I've ever seen and has brownish-red hair and a massive amount of freckles. He looks to be no older than twelve. "A bloke in the tavern just told us 'at the ship with the big British flag is takin' on ship boys!" He scuttles off quickly and catches up with his friends, who are standing in front of a man sitting behind a small table. He seems to be inspecting the candidates for ship boys.

It hits me as if I'd been struck by lightening.

I'll be a ship boy.

My God, it's perfect. It'll get me away from this town and the Evans family. I'll never have to see this bloody hunk of land again!

I sprint down to the docks, my shoes thundering on the wooden pier. There's a line of about ten boys, each of them under thirteen, by the looks of it. I'm the oldest there by far. That can't be a good sign.

The man looking over us all has graying black hair and looks menacing in his coat of deep red, golden buttons twinkling in the early morning sun. His attire gives him away. He's a British Naval captain.

His eyes rest on me and he smirks. "Yer a bit too old ta' be a ship's boy, aren't ya?"

I don't say anything and staring unblinkingly into his eyes. I know what he's trying to do - he wants me to rise and defend myself, but I won't. The proper militant doesn't speak until spoken to. My family has played host to enough of them for me to know.

"And just who _are_ ya, _boy_?" He sneers, though I can tell that my lack of self defense is unnerving him slightly.

"Christopher Thompson, sir," I reply, bowing slightly, making sure that my eyes never leave his.

"And what's yer age?"

"Fifteen, sir."

"And what's yer intention of coming ta' the pier today, Thompson?"

"I would like a place on your ship," I say, not missing a beat. I'm prepared for this. Lily Evans never backs down.

The man snorts. "And what makes ya think that ya'd be given a place?"

"Well, sir, I -"

"Mr. Gardner!" Someone shouts, interrupting my speech. A man with curling grey hair in a fancy coat of blues and gold sticks his head over the railing. He wears a pair of small, round glasses on his wizened face.

"Yes?" My enquirer, Mr. Gardner asks in a very annoyed voice, looking up at the man.

"Remember, I'm looking for an assistant. Preferably older that most of these lads, but they must be able to read and write!" The man shouts back, pushing his glasses up his nose.

My brain sparks. I can read _and_ write. My legs are suddenly taking on the properties of jelly.

"Sir," I say to Mr. Gardner, bowing slightly for a second time. "Sir, begging your pardon, but _I_ can read and write."

"Oh _really_?" Mr. Gardner replies, giving me a fearful look. I nod. "Alrigh' then," he says, shoving a piece of paper under my nose. "What does _this_ say?" He points to a paragraph on the page.

My eyes scan over the words. "By order of the King, Mr. William H. Gardner is hereby instated as second mate on the _Intrepid _of the British Royal Navy."

The man pulls back the paper and gives me nasty look, calculating something in his mind. After a minute, he roars, "Mr. Fuller, come and collect yer dratted assistant!"

The man with the grey hair and glasses looks over the side of the ship a second time and I bow to him, grinning in spite of my self.

I cannot _believe_ that actually worked.

Who knew that when I said opening a new door, it would lead me to the ocean?

* * *

A/N: So, what'cha think? Review and tell me!

Until next time, then!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	4. Leaving London

A/N: 'Sup, fellow fanfiction zombies!

I made a decision: This story takes place in 1779. I know I said earlier that it was the late 1790's, but it doesn't work. Lily was born in Britian, but her family moved to Philidalphia shortly after. They didn't really care much for the king, basically. So they're living there when a small bout yellow fever strikes the city in 1766. (Yup, it actually happened. Yay for me for being historically correct!) So her parents and possibly her sisters die from it (Lily doesn't really remember) and leave Lily orphaned in the streets. The governor and his wife were visiting with relatives when they find Lily. (In case you were wondering, Violet was shopping.) Yes, so that's the history.

Ok, just so you know, Mr. Fuller's _not_ a perv. He's just very...friendly.

Ahem...I have some bad news. The Marauderers won't be comingas soon asI thought. I'm sorry, but the story has to be a little more established before they appear. More has to happen first. Look for them _after_ chapter ten or something like that.-Ducks as readers throw watermelons- Watermelons? You guys sure are creative! But anyways, THEY WILL COME IN! I just don't know when yet. I'll warn you a few chapters in advance so you can get your 'I Love You, James, Sirius, and Remus!' posters ready.

Thanks to Green Animelover, triquetraperson, Elfsquire90, Daisy Pixie, rubberband11, thelovebugy, Aznangel4eva, grandmaster p, scarlet emerald, socal4ever, little kitsune, TheDoomer, ThePranksterQueens,asdfjkl;, serindraxx, Ulitheal, LilJester,Zemmie, echo-waters, avalon64, Moony's Warebabe, goodie2shoes19,and MsMissProngs for reviewing! You guys are awesome!

Well, onto chapter four!

Disclaimer: ...I pity the person who thinks that I'm JKR. What are _you_ high on, bud?

* * *

If I had one iota of common sense, I would have run when Mr. Gardner announced that I was to be Mr. Fuller's helper, despite my initial happiness. God, I should have run. 

Now, I know what you're thinking - What's the matter with this girl? A second ago she was jumping for joy at being taken aboard the _Intrepid_. What _happened_?

Doubt, that's what.

As I board the ship, my knees wobble as my brain screams at me. _A ship? You damned idiot, you think it won't be easy for them to find you out on a boat full of bloody **men**? Were you hit upside the head with something large and heavy, or do you just have a death wish? Even if you **do** get away from England and that wretched family, you'll be thrown over-board in the middle of the ocean and eaten by sharks! You can't even **swim**! Why couldn't you have just been an apprentice to a scripter or a blacksmith or something **less dangerous**?_

My worries literally eating my brain away, I step aboard the ship, the swaying of the waves on the hull faltering my steps. I grab onto the railing to steady myself, looking up as I do so.

That's when I see _him_.

A boy around my age, perhaps nineteen, with light brown hair tied back at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. Although he's standing a good deal away from me, I can see that his eyes are a clear greenish-blue. The sun illuminates the golden-colored buttons on his black jacket. The boy's decked out in matching, tight black breeches (Insert girlish fantasies here), a white, billowy shirt, white silks and black shoes with golden buckles. He looks as though he's being taught how to climb up the nets, er, rigging that stretches up to the very top of the mast on this gigantic boat.

God, he's handsome. I let out a deep breath I hadn't even realized I was holding.

"Hello, there!" A voice calls, bringing me back to my present surroundings. I look around and see Mr. Fuller walking towards me, his blue and gold coat billowing in the wind. "So _you're_ my new assistant, eh?" He shakes his head and his locks are sent flying. That tightly curled grey hair of his is definitely a wig.

"Aye, sir," I say, bowing. If I'm to be a sea-going lad, I might as well talk like one. They do say 'aye', right?

"Looks as if you haven't gotten used to the sea yet, the way you were clutching the rail and holding your breath over here," my new superior says, thumping my shoulder. I try extremely hard not to blush. Apparently I was being more conspicuous that I thought.

"N-no, not yet, sir," I reply, trying to recover my dignity.

"No matter," he says, waving his hand in the wind. "Now then, let's have a look at you." He walks around me in a little circle, looking for some sort of imperfection. I pray to God that he doesn't find anything. I really _don't_ want to be turned out before we even leave port.

Mr. Fuller finishes his circle around me and peers into my face. I'm overcome by the urge to shy away from his gaze, as I was taught to by countless instructors, but I don't. If boys can handle it when their seniors inspect them, so can I.

"You seem to be a fine young lad, and a very pretty - er - handsome one at that. What your name, son?" He asks, standing up straight.

"Christopher Thompson, sir," I say, lowering my voice pitch slightly. I curse myself for forgetting to earlier.

"Ah, Topher it is, then! And your age?"

"Just turned fifteen, sir."

"Wonderful, wonderful! You're _just_ the sort I've been looking for," he leans in close to me, "Presuming you _can_ read and write?"

"Aye, sir, I can. My father taught me when I was a young la-lad." I was about to say lass but caught myself.

"Excellent," Mr. Fuller says, grabbing my hand and shaking it. I am suddenly struck by how oddly informal this man is. Surely anyone else would not treat me in such a friendly manner, my being a common _boy_ and all.

"Welcome to the _HMS_ _Intrepid_," my superior says, spreading his arms out wide and holding them there for a second. "I believe most of the men are out in town at the moment, so I'll show you around and get you acquainted with how things work here."

"Thank you, sir," I say, very grateful for his thoughtfulness. Had anyone asked me to complete a task for them, I'd have been about as helpful as a wet log in winter. I know a bit about ships from all of the endless dinners I've had to endure with ship captains and the like, but not enough to get by.

Mr. Fuller leads me around to near where the handsome boy is now climbing up the rigging. I watch as he swings onto a beam which the sail is currently tied to. I don't know which is brighter at the moment, the blazing sun or the boy's smile as he looks down to the deck. I quickly avert my eyes before he catches me staring at him. That would be mortifying.

"This," Mr. Fuller says, breaking me once again out of my girlish thoughts, "Is the Mainmast." He pats the huge wooden beam that juts straight up into the sky. "It's principle use is to house, in order, the Mainsail, the Shrouds, the Maintop, or the beam where those two are sitting, the Main Topsail, the Main Topgallant, the Backstays, and the highest sail, the Main Royal. Got that?" He looks at me expectantly.

"Er..."

"Not to worry, you won't need to know what everything is. After all, it's not as if you're a ship boy. Now, over here we have..." He goes on for a while, naming every sail, every mast, every nail in the deck, or so it seems.

Finally, right when I feel as though I am about to fall asleep standing up, he says, "To conclude, the Captain's quarters are below deck, not that you'll be going there. The cannons are there as well, along with the quarterdeck. Any questions?"

"Two," I say, putting my hand on the rail as we stand at the front of the ship. "What _exactly_ will I be assisting you with, and where are my sleeping quarters?"

"Ah, forgive me for not introducing myself properly. I am the instructor aboard the ship. I teach the midshipmen and the ship boys, once we acquire some, in Geography, Arithmetic, and religion, among other things. You will be helping me teach. Do you believe that to be within your range?" He gives me a calculating look.

"Aye, sir, I believe it is," I say, feeling a smile tug on my face. I have been well trained in all of these subjects.

"And for your second question, you will be sleeping in the room where I teach. You'll have a hammock that you can rig where you choose. My quarters are adjacent to the classroom, so if you need anything, I'll be next door." His eyes twinkle at me in a grandfather-like way, and I decide that Mr. Fuller and I will get along, just so long as he doesn't find out I'm a lass. And I'm very much liking the idea of sleeping in my own quarters.

"Ah, look, the new ship boys have arrived!" I follow his gaze to the right side of the ship, or starboard, rather, and see a small cluster of about five boys standing on the deck. They all seem eager to learn their new posts, happiness radiating off of them.

"Well, shall I show you to your quarters? I daresay you'll want to set up before we depart," Mr. Fuller says, taking off to the back of the ship, where a cabin is erect on the deck.

He opens the glass-paned door and we both step inside to a small room with many filled bookshelves and a long, dark-wood table with matching chairs crammed inside. The walls are painted a dark emerald green and the floors match the wood of the table. There is a large window on the right and a small bench beneath it. Paintings of boats and islands line the walls above the shelves, cluttering the small room even more.

"I apologize for the state of things," my superior says, stepping around the table and over near the window. There's barely room for two people in here, and I wonder briefly how on earth I'm going to find room for my sleeping space. "I've been meaning to clean it up a bit, but..." He motions around him. "My quarters are through that door," he continues, pointing to a door that I didn't notice, due to the fact that its color matches the walls.

"Sir," I say in very polite voice. "Would you mind if I tidied the place up a tad? I'll leave everything on the shelves as is," I say quickly, just in case he thought I'd do away his expansive collection of books. Not that I would ever do such a thing. I mean, really, I'm the biggest book lover _ever_. I'm not likely to just go and pitch the largest grouping of literature I've ever seen out into the ocean, but he doesn't know that.

"Be my guest." He points to the shelf opposite me. "I really only need the things on that shelf in here. Everything else can go in my chamber. Good luck." And with that, he exits the room.

I look about me at the mess that's been created here. I may be of noble class, but I _do_ know how to clean. I take a breath and roll up my sleeves. "Best get started," I say to the cluttered room before attacking a shelf.

* * *

"All hands on deck!" A loud voice calls from outside the cabin. I had just sorted all of the books on the shelves into piles of the ones that were needed in the lesson room and those to be moved when I heard the summon. I stood, rolled my sleeves back into place, and exited the room. I was, after all, a hand. 

I spot Mr. Fuller's coat and head towards him. "What's going on, sir?" I ask once I'm next to him.

"Ah, there you are. We're just about to leave port. They call us so that we can say goodbye to people we're leaving on land," Mr. Fuller replies, looking out at the horizon where the sun is setting. A rainbow of colors shoots out from the violently orange orb - a perfect celebration for leaving this God-forsaken town.

"So, how's the progress moving in the classroom?"

I look sideways at him. "It's moving," I say, earning myself a laugh.

"I say, you are a funny fellow," Mr. Fuller says, patting his slightly large stomach in happiness.

The boat starts to slowly creep away from the dock. I grab hold of the railing, bracing myself for a lurch in movement that comes moments later. I hear shouts from above me and look up to see men untying the sails. The large white sheets of canvas unfurl and are immediately filled with sea-bound wind. We drift out of port steadily after that, the boat rocking harder as we reach the choppier water. I'm grateful to be holding onto something. I rather like staying on my two feet.

It only takes a few minutes for us to leave the docks far behind us. I'm filled with a sudden, explosive giddiness. I'm leaving London!

"Well," Mr. Fuller says from my right, letting go of the rail. "We best be heading back to the lesson room. The midshipmen will be there soon for their instruction. We teach them every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, and today _is_ after all Monday. Come along, then." He turns and heads back to the cabin, me following in his wake.

Looking through the glass plates on the door, Mr. Fuller exclaims, "My goodness! It looks as if the boys are all _actually_ here before _I_ am. It's a miracle!"

He's an odd one, all right.

As Mr. Fuller opens the door, I'm hit with a vicious wave of fear. What if these midshipmen people see through my disguise? I'd planned on staying out of everyone's way, but here I am meeting five young men who could possibly know right away that I'm not one of them.

Oh, God...

Mr. Fuller walks into the cabin, and I hesitate a moment before taking a deep breath and following him into the male-infested territory

* * *

A/N: That Lily's really a worrier, isn't she? I suppose that she's just really unsure of herself, especially now that she's pretending to be something she is quite clearly not. So don't go saying, "Wow, she's paranoid." She has every right to be!

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	5. Touche, Topher

A/N: Hi, people!

To find names for all of the people in this chapter (And there are a lot of them showing up...), I had to go e-searching for names common for the 18th century. No walk in the park, I'll tell you. See how dedicated I am?

God, _98_ reviews? For only four chapters? WOW! Thanks, especially to x LiL jEsSi x, grandmaster p, Elfsquire90, thelovebugy, GoddessoftheMaaN, Queenofrootloops, goodie2shoes19, scarlet emerald, Daisy Pixie, morgim1103, rubberband11, little kitsune, asdfhjk;, Parvatti, LaZyLuNaTiC, serindraxx, socal4ever, emma, Boo26, boiz, triquetraperson, Zemmie, Rawthorn, Green Animelover, Siriusly Fuzzy, Selistic, kasey07, Sweet Southerner, and Laurëloth.

Well, that's it! Onto chapter five!

Disclaimer: ...Do I even hafta say it?

_

* * *

_

_Oh, God, they're all looking at me..._

I can feel the stares of the five midshipmen on my back as I follow Mr. Fuller into the lesson room. I keep my head up and look straight ahead, avoiding their eyes. It's what _any_ man of the upper-class would do.

Okay, so I'm not a _man_ of upper-class, but you get my meaning.

Mr. Fuller navigates through the chairs and bookcases, heading over to the one shelf with his essential books. He pulls out a large, dark blue volume with gold writing and decoration stamped on the cover. My hands twitch to take hold of the book and read it myself, but I use restraint. Wouldn't want to look odd in front of all these lads, now would I?

"Please open your composition books and turn to a fresh page. Then we'll begin our writing exercises," Mr. Fuller says. I realize that he is the only one in the room who seems not to be paying me any mind, seeing as all of the boys are still staring at me peculiarly. I clear my throat to remind him of my presence.

He turns to me and says, "Oh, yes, I nearly forgot! This lad here is Topher Thompson, and he will be assisting me in the teaching of you brainless scurvs."

I look at the boys at the table for the first time. There are indeed five of them, each wearing a black coat with shiny gold buttons with billowy white shirts underneath. Huh, seems familiar...

Mr. Fuller introduces the lads to me by gesturing at them.

"This is Mr. Frederick Addams," he says, and a boy around fifteen with cropped, dirty-blonde hair nods. I return the gesture.

"Over there's Mr. Robin Greene," he continues, pointing to a boy with longer reddish-brown hair and a violent splash of freckles across his nose. He looks to be about my age, perhaps a bit younger. He smiles at me and I notice that he's fairly handsome. My lips curve up _very_ slightly.

"Then we have Mr. William Nolan." The boy he jesters to seems to be the youngest of the lot, probably only thirteen. He has bright orangey hair and even brighter blue eyes. He's Irish, this one, that's for sure. He looks at me curiously, and I look right back. I know, at least, that I'm higher up in rank than he is.

"That's Mr. Robert Walker." This one seems the largest of the lot, probably nearly twenty, with tied-back dark brown, nearly black hair and dark eyes. He gives me a once-over and peers intently into my face. I try hard not to look away. Honestly, must people stare so?

"And lastly, Mr. Jack Wilson." I break my gaze from Robert Walker's face and look at the last boy. My breath catches.

It's _him_.

He's gazing at me curiously with his liquid azure eyes, his expression mirroring Robert Walker's. I feel my heart stop.

_God_, he's handsome.

He, too, gives me a once-over, and I realize how truly odd I must look. Here I am, a short, scrawny 'boy' with chin-length fire-red hair and eyes so green they're frightening, standing before them in all their midshipmen's' glory, wearing second-hand clothes and blushing as they stare at me. Apparently, helping to teach these 'brainless scurvs' is going to be more difficult than I thought.

I blink at Jack Wilson, then break my gaze. "Pleasure," I say, then turn back to Mr. Fuller. "What should I do while you are teaching, sir?" I ask, lowering my voice a bit. I'm still being watched by those around the table, I can feel it. If I wasn't nervous enough, the once-overs from the two eldest of the boys may mean that they're suspicious of me.

Can't have _that_, now can we?

"Well, perhaps, for now, you can continue to organize the books in here. Then, once they finish, you can check over the boys' sentences." He turned from me to address the midshipmen. "None of you lot are to treat Topher with any disrespect, _understood_? He is higher in rank than you, being an assistant to me, so you are _all_ to listen to him and do whatever he tells you to. Now," he glanced down at his pocket watch. "Please copy the exercises from page thirty-seven of your instruction books. Topher will check them when you are finished. I shall be stepping out for a brief moment, so _behave yourselves_." And with that, my only ally sacrifices me to the clutches of five bloody-thirsty boys.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.

I stare at the closed door for a moment, then heave a sigh and return to my previous task of tearing apart shelves.

"Well, now that that fat lug is gone..." I hear one of the lads say from behind me.

"Hey," a different one says, and I realize the voice is addressing me.

"Yes?" I ask tiredly, not turning to face whoever was inquiring.

"Your name's Topher, right?"

I nod, not truly dignifying the question with an answer.

"How old're you?"

"Fifteen."

"Ah, same as Freddie, here."

"Hey, Robin's not that much older, he's only sixteen," a voice I'm assuming belongs to 'Freddie' Addams says.

A voice from my left say, "_You're_ fifteen? You look too...too..."

"_Pretty_."

I whirl around. It was Jack Wilson. Of course.

"Well, _excuse_ me for being _'too pretty'_, then," I spit out, turning back to my work. I know they're surprised at my outburst, but I'm much more worried than angry. If he's thinking that I'm too pretty to be a guy, it's only a matter of time before...

"Don't blow a gasket. Jack didn't mean anything by it, did'ya, Jacky?"

"_Don't_ call me Jacky, _Robert_."

"Then _you_ don't call me _Robert_, _Jacky_."

"What did I _just_ say, _Robert_?"

"What did _I_ just say, _Jacky_?"

My patience is completely gone. "Would you two kindly _shut up_!" I say loudly, spinning on my heel to face them. They're all staring at me again. "You're supposed to be doing work, are you not?"

They blink back at me, as if work is a completely foreign concept. God, these boys irritate the _hell_ out of me. I roll my eyes hugely at them, reach out, and grab William Nolan's exercise book. The pages they are working on are from Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_, a story I know _very_ well. They're supposed to be explaining the comparisons made in - ah, the balcony scene. Great, just what I need. The midshipmen are reading a God damn _romance scene_.

"So, who has any of their questions answered?" I ask, and they stare at me blankly. "Fine. Who can tell me what _Romeo and Juliet_ is _about_, then?" More blank stares. Then-

"We haven't read this part yet. Fuller's supposed to read it to us," Jack Wilson says slowly, his eyes fixed intently on mine. "Perhaps, if you like us to get our work done, you could read it?" I notice, despite my irritation, that he has a beautiful sounding voice.

I glance around at the others, who are all glaring at Wilson. Due to my need to gain more friends here than enemies, I say, "No. I have my own work to do. You can read it on your own terms."

The other boys beam at me. _Oh, sure_, I think, _Do one nice thing and they love you. But suggest reading Shakespeare..._

"It's a shame, though," Robin Greene says, as I return Nolan's book and turn back to the shelf. "You'd make a lovely Juliet."

I grab a book of the shelf and catapult it across the room before I know what I'm doing. He yelps and ducks just in time. Too bad. I really would've liked to hit him.

"What was _that_ for?" He shouts, looking at me all surprised.

"That's for saying I look like a girl," I replied, laughing inside. You gotta love the redhead temper.

* * *

Four days have gone by since I first boarded the _Intrepid_. I've been a good girl, I mean boy, and have kept my head down.

Mr. Fuller insisted on helping me with my room decoration when he had time off, so now I have my own little nook with my hammock and my sack of belongings. It's actually pretty nice, and I like it.

Today is a fine April day, the brilliant yellow sun shining high over head. There's not a cloud in the sky.

The midshipmen are being taught fencing by an instructor today. They are fairly decent, Jack Wilson being the best.

It seems that much of the crew wanted a chance to take on Wilson, and today the instructor let him. I watch from my cabin as he lunges at his opponents with his practice foil (A non-dangerous sword they use for practice). He's very good, I'll admit, but after fighting the first five, he's gotten cocky, seeing as there really isn't anyone onboard who could ever beat him.

Except, maybe, for _me_.

As Wilson polishes off another crew member, his instructor yells, "Does anyone else wish to fight against my student?" There are several murmurs, but no one steps forward.

Wilson scans the crowd, looking for a victim. Then he spots me.

"Alright there, Thompson?" He shouts, one hand on his hip, the other holding his foil. "Why don't you come on out here and give this fencing a whirl? I challenge you!"

I give him a look, take a deep breath, then step out of my quarters and onto the deck. Who knows, maybe this'll be good practice. I've been looking for a new opponent for a while.

"I'll give it a go," I reply, the wind whipping my hair around my face. I'm sure it looks as if my head's on fire.

The crew turns to look at me, and I suddenly realize that this was a stupid idea. _There goes keeping my head down... _There are several sniggers thrown at me, and I know what they're thinking -Who am I to challenge this midshipman, when I am naught but an assistant, and a skinny, weak-looking one at that?

Alas, men, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But then again, I'm not sure half of them can read to begin with.

Wilson's instructor looks at me dubiously, his eyes almost laughing at me. "Do you know how to fence?" He asks, hardly containing his mirth.

"I was taught a bit," I say offhandedly, knowing I sound modest. Oh yes, four years is a _bit_. But I know never to get cocky. That could be fatal in real combat. My instructors taught me this, among other things.

The midshipmen's trainer shrugs in a way that says, 'I warned you', then hands me a foil gruffly. He wants to see me fall, and I know it. I smile. I'll never give him that satisfaction.

Wilson and I bow to each other, then turn and walk seven paces away. We turn simultaneously and face each other, our foils drawn. His face is serious, but I can see that Wilson's usually lovely eyes are sniggering at me in the same way that the others were. He thinks I'm an unworthy opponent.

I'll show him.

I hold tightly to the hilt of my weapon, waiting for the signal. _Three...two...one!_

"On guard!" Wilson says, charging at me.

"Have at thee!" I reply, anticipation sweeping over me. I want to win this one so badly, I can feel it in my toes.

Our blades meet, and he lunges for me. But I cross my blade with his, and he misses. As our foils continue to meet and clink, we edge around the ship, forcing the crowd to move out of the way, lest the wish to be trod on.

After he had lunged at me for probably the twelfth time, he locks our blades. "You're not fighting back," he pants. "What's wrong, afraid I'll find a way around it and get you instead?"

I grin at him. "You want me to fight back? Okay, I'll fight back!" I say, shouting the last part. Then, I disentangle our blades and do a backwards hand-spring away from him, landing up on a barrel. Stunned for a moment by my sudden movement, Wilson charges forwards, his foil drawn high.

Once he reaches me, I leap over his head, landing behind him. He turns, and I send his blade flying out of his hands and sailing into the air. I reach up and catch it in my other hand, then turn both blades on him, one pressed up against his throat. He is cornered. I have won.

I stare directly into Wilson's beautiful blue eyes. "Touché."

The crew is silent for a moment, then cheers. I smile through my panting, then toss his foil back at Wilson, who seems not to've registered what had happened. He peers up into my face, and I force myself not to blush. He really is unnaturally handsome.

"Would the victor please come forward?" A loud voice booms. I turn, and the smile is wiped from my face.

It's the captain.

I step up to him, my foil still in my hand, and bow as low as I can. "You summoned, sir?"

"What's your name, boy?"

"Thompson, sir. Topher Thompson."

"And what is your station aboard this craft?"

"I am assistant to Mr. Fuller, sir," I say, wondering where all of this questioning is leading to.

"How long have you been fencing?"

"A little less than four years, sir."

The captain nods and looks me over while I fight the urge to squirm. Then, with little warning, he shouts to his second mate, "Mr. Gardner!"

"Yes, Captain?" The man replies.

"Mr. Thompson is hereby instated as a midshipman. Please find him a bunk and tell Mr. Fuller of the change."

I look up at the captain with my mouth hanging open. _What!_

The captain looks down at me and says, "Unless of course you'd like to stay an assistant. We could, however, use someone like you in battle..."

I gap up at him. "I - of course, sir, I - I'd be glad to-"

"Wonderful," he says, cutting off my stammering. You may pack your things. Mr. Gardner will explain things further. Good afternoon." He takes leave of me, and I am left to stare at the back of his blood-red coat. _Did that just happen?_ I wonder. I glance over at Wilson, whose face is showing utmost surprise.

Looks like it _did_ just happen.

It seems like two hours ago that I was sitting in my parlor, drinking tea with that - with Snape as Lily Evans, and now, I'm Topher Thompson (So much for Christopher. I do like Topher better.), a midshipman on the _HMS Intrepid_.

Funny how things work out, isn't it?

* * *

A/N: Well?

Please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	6. Rotten Princes

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry this is so utterly late. I actually did try to get it done on time, but...well, you know...

Ok, I've got two things to say.

1) The Marauderers - yes, that means James too - aren't coming in until _after_ the tenth chapter. For those of you who are hard of hearing (Or reading.), that was, again, **James is not coming until _after_ the tenth chapter!**

2) Jack Wilson is _not_ James Potter. Why would you think that anyway? Look, I said James wasn't gonna be introduced until at _least _chapter ten, so why would I make him in disguise? No, Lily's the only person pretending to be someone she's not that you'll meet for _long_ time, ok? So no, James is not Jack, or vise versa.

Whew, now that that's done...

Just so you know, 'Frog' is a...rude nickname for the French. I apologize if using that offends anyone, but that's what they were called by the British and everyone else in the late 1700's, and I'm trying to keep this as historically correct as I possibly can, so...

Ok, a lot of you have been telling me that Lily is very Mary Sue-ish in this fic. Now, I get the jist of what that means, but I'm not nearly as word-savvy as you all seem to think. Could someone explain to me what exactly that means?

Urg, I hate this chapter. It's right before all the good stuff starts to happen, so the anticipation was eating away at me. So it's boring and fillerish, and I'm very sorry that you had to wait so long for _this_. -Casts disgusted look at chapter six-

Ok, so thanks to triquetraperson, serindraxx, goodie2shoes19, Queenofrootloops, grandmaster p, Elfsquire90,GoddessoftheMaaN, anna, agent moriel, Parvatti, rubberband11, lilytero, aamykinns, little kitsune, MsMissProngs, choco-crush, Daisy Pixie, IamtheHEARTthatYoucallHome, socal4ever, addy, Annieboo92, Cometchick, Zemmie, give em enough rope, hpgirl, Miracle Girls, x LiL jEsSi x, Spuffy Freak,Green Animelover, Boo26, I think i'm drowning, lilyloves21, Senasitara, wIthOUt A nAmE, sarah is kooky, cylobaby, August Coldfeather, Anonymous, LaZyLuNaTiC, and emma for reviewing! That's the most I've ever gotten for one chapter!

Well, onto chapter six, then...

Disclaimer: I don't have enough energy to write one of these after rattling off all of the reviewers' names. (Thanks again!) I own nothing.

* * *

"But - but where am I supposed to find another assistant? We're in the middle of the bloody _ocean_, for Christ's sake!" Mr. Fuller says in response to being told I'm now a midshipman. I feel very bad for leaving him like this, but what was I supposed to do? Refuse the captain? 

Not bloody likely.

"Sir, I beg your forgiveness," I say quietly, stepping out from behind Mr. Gardner. "I had not known that this would come of my sword-playing. Please don't be cross." I lap on the charm, hoping to win him over.

My superior looks over at me as if just realizing I was there at all. He takes in my bowed head and forlorn face. His shoulders sag, eyes soften, and he sighs. "All is forgiven, lad. Perhaps you could still nip away and help me during lessons and what not," he says hopefully, clasping his hand behind his back. "Fear not, lad, for I hold no grudges. Good day." And with that he walks away.

I take a deep breath. It shall be odd not listening to Mr. Fuller's instructions day in and day out, but then again, I've never really feared change.

"Boy," grunts Gardner, who is looking at me with distaste. "Grab yer things and let's get a move on." I blink at him, then take my merry-old time refilling my sack and hoisting it on my shoulders. I unhook my hammock and tuck it back into its old cupboard. I glance around the room, noting that this will be the last time I do so as Mr. Fuller's assistant.

"Move yer arse, boy!" I hear from the doorway, and grudgingly I turn and follow Gardner out. What a truly grisly man this one is.

He leads me down below deck and turns right down a long, wooden hallway. At the last door, he stops and points. "This'll be yer room. Now get." With that, he leaves.

I stare at the door for a moment, my stomach knotting momentarily. Once again, I'm moving away from my comfortable area. _What_ was that I said about not fearing change?

I take a breath and, grasping the intricately carved handle, open the door.

I step into the room, which is thankfully empty. The place is about eleven feet long and eight feet wide and shaped like a _T_. There're two bunks set in the paneled wall, so as to allow room for walking about. There's one dresser at the back with a porcelain water basin resting on top. A mirror hangs on the wall opposite the bunks, for shaving purposes, I'm guessing.

I am about to step forward and inspect the contents of the dresser when someone behind me says, "So they put you in my room, did they?"

I nearly jump out of my skin. Spinning around, I find myself face to face with Jack Wilson.

Of course.

"Cripes! What the _hell_ are you doing, sneaking up on me like that? You nearly made my _heart_ stop." I suppose that wasn't _exactly_ the right thing to say for the circumstances, but he seems to get what I mean.

Wilson holds his hands up in surrender. "I was only coming back to _my_ room. No need to bite my _head_ off."

I huff at him, then turn to the bunks. "Which one's yours?"

"Bottom," he replies, spreading out on his bed and smirking up at me lazily. I want to tear that little grin right of his gorgeous face, but I only _just_ became a midshipman. I need to restrain myself for a while. After all, killing this _idiot_ for petty reasons may get me drawn and quartered.

I'm suddenly aware of the fact that I'm plotting Wilson's murder. God, when did I become so _violent_? I glance for a second at my new bunk-mate. Okay, so I know why I'm so violent. It's because I loathe _him_. It's too bad, though. He's too bloody _handsome _for his own good.

"So," Wilson says as I throw my sack up onto the top bunk and swing myself up into it. "Where did a lad like _you_ learn to fence like that?"

I hold up my pocket watch out of his view and hang in on a little hook above my head. A lad like _me_, eh?

"I was taught when I was younger," I reply carelessly after a time. It really was a while ago that I had my last lesson, now that I think on it. Violet stopped them about a month before Snape was introduced. She was spitting pins when she found out I'd been having them without her knowledge. Thinks she knows everything, that one.

"You must've had one amazing instructor," says the boy below me, and I hear a bit of bitterness in his voice. I know what he's thinking - How could a common lad beat a _midshipman _at fencing, even _with_ proper training?

"That I did, but I also make sure _not_ to get cocky in my moves. Tis' often the downfall of less _diligent_ fencers."

I can almost hear his indignation. "Less diligent? What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

I don't reply. Instead I swing down from my bunk and go over to the dresser, where I shove my clothes into the first empty drawer I find.

"I asked you a question," Wilson says coldly. _He's like a spoiled-rotten little prince_, I think angrily, carrying on in silence.

He gets up from his bed and stomps over to me, grabbing my arm and twisting me around to face him. "I asked you a _question_," he growls into my face, which is mere inches from his. I'm being pushed up against the dresser, my arm twisted behind my back. If anyone ever caught me in this position _before_ I traded my skirts for breeches, I'd've been dead and buried by now.

I ignore my rapidly beating heart. _Who the hell does Wilson think he is, messing with me? _I speak, a courage I never knew I had roaring through my blood.

"I heard you the first time, _your highness_," I say, looking directly into his blazing azure eyes, my voice a cold, menacing whisper. "And what I meant was that you are _cocky_, and only _idiots_ get cocky during sword fights. Do not assume that you can beat every opponent you come across, even if they are smaller and weaker than you." I wanted to spit into his face, just for good measure, but I held back. Once again, I should probably behave myself for a while. (Though being pinned to a dresser by an incredibly handsome lad probably wouldn't be seen as 'behaving myself'.)

Wilson glares into my eyes for a while, then, for whatever reason, his expression changes from rage and hatred to confused and bewildered. I stare at him with one eyebrow raised while his eyes widen. Then he abruptly lets go of my arm and backs away, his dismayed eyes still locked on mine. His bizarre confusion gives me courage to scorch him.

"Don't think, prince, that just because I'm not from the same class that you are, that I am of any less _importance_ than you. I beat you today in fencing because I am _better than you_. You'd do well to remember that." Wilson stares at me still and I turn back to the dresser, slightly unnerved by his non response.

"_Ingrate__ sanglant_," I mutter, his God-like persona aggravating me.

"What was that?" He asks, popping out of his trance like a kernel of corn in heat.

"I _said_ _Ingrate__ sanglant_. Don't tell me you're too _brainless_ to have been taught French?" I say, annoyed that such a high-and-mighty lad wouldn't know the language of our neighboring country.

"There's no one onboard this entire ship who speaks French, except maybe Fuller. What did you say, anyway?" Wilson asks.

I roll my eyes. "I called you a bloody ingrate, though perhaps_ idiot bête_ would be more appropriate." He gives me a blank look. "Like a said, brainless lout." I turn away from him.

I am just starting to finish shoving my clothing into a drawer when the door bursts open and Irish Boy rushes in, panting slightly and out of breath.

"Cap'in says, 'All hands on deck!' There's a Frog about half a mile east, and we're gonna take 'er!'"

Wilson blinks for the first time in the last few minutes and quickly follows the other out the door.

Not knowing what else to do, I follow them as they head up to deck. I have no idea what "we're gonna take 'er" means, exactly, but it looks as though I'm gonna find out.

* * *

As I step out onto the deck, the sun overhead nearly blinds me. I turn around, to face the east, and gasp out loud. 

There's a ship, very large though scarcely armed, barely a quarter mile away. It's so close I can see the men run about onboard, the French flag fluttering high above their head.

"Alright, men," a loud voice booms, and I turn to find the captain not twelve paces from me. "We're going to board that ship as soon as we make contact. I want you to be in _full military uniform_, _understood_?"

Everyone onboard salutes and says, "Yes sir." I am among them.

"Get to it then!" The captain shouts, and everyone launches themselves to their respective cabins to dress themselves for the ambush.

I move swiftly down to my quarters and find Wilson already there. "What am I to wear?" I ask, knowing full well that I sound more like a girl than I should, so I clarify. "No one gave me a uniform."

Wilson scowls at me, then shouts down the hall, "Freddie! Get over here and bring that extra uniform of yours!"

Irish Boy leaps into our midst and holds up a wad of material. "Got it, O Great One!"

"Har, har," Wilson says sarcastically. He flings the uniform at me. "Here, change into this." Then he promptly turns around and pulls his shirt over his head.

Blushing, I turn around to face the window, my back to Wilson. I take a deep breath, then take off my shirt, revealing my tightly woven bandages, which are, of course, hiding my womanly features.

"What'd you do?" Wilson asks, staring at my heavily-bandaged torso.

It's a good thing my back's to him, because I know I'm blushing something awful. "Oh, I - got hurt - during a...a fencing accident. Before I came aboard, of course," I stammer out. Feeling his eyes on my back, I quickly pull my uniform shirt on and button up the front. The sleeves are a bit long, but I can hem them later. I slide my arms into that jacket and note that it fits perfectly.

I hear Wilson's footsteps as he leaves the room, not saying anything to me, so I rapidly slip off my breeches and replace them with the uniform ones. They are long and breezy, but tight across my backside. I pray to God that no one notices my bum hanging out as I head back down the hallway and up the stairs onto the deck.

The sunlight blinds me for a second time. You'd think I'd've learned by now...

Most of the men are already on deck. We are meters from the French ship now, the men aboard it scurrying about like ants. It's fairly funny to watch.

"Alright men," the captain says, brandishing a lovely sword with a golden hilt. "On my order..._swing_."

Ropes fly overhead. Every man aboard flies across the _Intrepid's_ railing onto the French ship's deck on tightly-tied ropes. The French crew shies away from our men.

"Alright, put your hands up where I can see them!" The captain calls out to the French crew, all of whom are shaking shamelessly in their boots. But there's something wrong. Their eyes mirror the blankness of Wilson when I spoke to him in French. None of them raise their hands.

"Are you all _daft_?" Gardner, the third mate asks loudly. The Frenchmen turn their eyes to him, still blank as ever.

"Captain," a man with straw colored hair and beard says to that captain, his elaborate coat nearly as fancy as the man's he's speaking to. "I don't think...they speak English..."

The captain turns to the crew. "Who here speaks French?" No one speaks. I know better. I'm not going to draw any more attention to myself than I already have. I bend my knees, duck down behind the man in front of me. Then -

"Captain, sir," a voice cries out. I turn my head. _Oh God... _my brain moans. Of course it's Wilson speaking. "Sir, Topher Thompson can speak French."

All eyes turn to me.

Great. Bloody great. I have no choice but to step forward. The captain acknowledges me with a nod of his head.

* * *

A/N: I know, it sucked, didn't it. 

Well, anyways, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	7. Dressing the Stars

A/N: Hi! 'Sup, people?

I have one main thing to say to all of you, and that is: _**AFTER.**_ Thank you.

...Ok, so have I _ever_ been able to stop at one word? Why start now?

Yes, so, I know you're all gonna send me viriuses and murder my hard drive and stuff, but James won't be coming in until chapter 14. I've mapped everything out, and that's as soon as he can possibly get here. Granted, he won't be properly introduced until later, but still, chapter 14. I know, I'm evil. I'm sorry.

I need a name for James' pirate ship. Any ideas?

Thanks to Anjali, Parvatti, give em enough rope, lilytero, goodie2shoes19, Elfsquire90, GoddessoftheMaaN, molldollbaby, xLiL jEsSix,grandmaster p, Green Animelover, ashantelle1830, LaughingManiac, kasey07, socal4ever, Daisy Pixie, Tayler, MorganisM-Lve, hotblacknesss, scarlet emerald, Laura, rubberband11, Untamed Loner, october tuscany, triquetraperson, boiz9, Maddie, kat, nymphadora1982, Noggy, XxxbabigurlxxX, Laurëloth, MsMissProngs, Riauna, tiedye, rubberducky9, SweetPsychotic2358, Elven Dagger, LJluva, crownerofkings, futurePOTUS, Zemmie, purplepanda7, Sweettarts, Stormy91, and jg93 for reviewing!

Well, onto chapter seven!

Disclaimer: ...Do I even hafta say it?

* * *

So I'm standing on the deck, all of the men staring at me, except for the French crew, who are still looking at the captain in confusion. God, this is embarrassing. 

I'll _kill_ that prat Wilson.

"Please tell these men this," the captain says, his arms clasped behind his back. "We are the British Royal Navy, and you are trespassing illegally into our waters. We are going to take over the ship and confiscate your wares."

I blink at him, my mind whirling. Honestly, I was never _that_ good at French. Gulping, I turn to the men aboard the French ship, clear my throat and shout, "_Écoutez moi!_ Er..._Nous__ sommes la marine__ royale britannique_..._et vous êtes infraction illégalement dans nos eaux_...um,_ nous allons succéder embarquez et confisquez vos articles._"

The Frenchmen stare at me. Then one of them shouts, "_Est-tu une fille ou un garçon_?" Are you a girl or a boy, he asks. Several of the others chuckle nervously.

I try hard not to blush, thanking God than none of the others know what they're saying. Stupid Frenchmen. "_Un garçon, évidemment._" A boy, obviously, is my reply.

One steps forward, much more ornately dressed than the rest - the captain. I meet his gaze unflinchingly. "And eef we do not cooperate?" He asks with heavily-accented English.

"Then we'll take you aboard our ship and hang each and every one of you in the gallows," the captain replies, stepping forward.

The Frenchmen pale as their captain glares at the man standing next to me, cautious. He surveys our men, then his own. They're outnumbered at least three to one and we have far more weapons, besides.

"Fine zen, do as you please," he says gruffly.

"You heard him, men," our captain says, holding up his sword. "Take whatever you find."

The men from the _Intrepid_ rush forward, some going below deck, some staying above. Those on deck search through barrels, while others come up from below with large crates and chests. I feel my eyes bulge at the sight of it.

Noticing my astonishment, the captain lightly says, "Don't get any ideas, lad. This is now the property of the crown."

"Y-yes, sir," I stutter, bowing as the captain walks away. No one seems to stay in my presence long on this ship. Do I smell bad or something?

Several men are coming up from below deck with bolts of colorful cloth and gorgeous gowns. For a second, I long to slip into one of the lovely dresses and put my hair up, and just be a girl again.

Then Snape's face swims into my head and I shudder involuntarily. No, I've changed my mind. I'd much rather be a boy at the moment.

"Cloth merchants," says a voice next to me, making me start. I look up and see the blonde man from earlier standing next to me. He glances down at me, as if waiting to see what I'll do.

"I believe so, too, sir," I reply, looking away. There was just a little too much scrutiny in his gaze for my liking.

"They have spices as well, and rum and jewelry." The captain has returned, and is gazing over at the French ship darkly.

The light-haired man looks over at him. "It's almost as if they're -"

"_Pirates_," the captain says, spitting the word out as if it had a foul taste. Where pirates are concerned, I'm guessing this man wishes to thoroughly weed the world.

"But they would be sailing under the Jolly Roger," the light-haired man points out, following the captain's hard gaze over to the ship.

"You're right. I doubt they realize how this looks to us. Most likely they are as innocent as they are ignorant."

"Unless," I say, recklessly plunging into their conversation, "They are covering up what they do not want found. They may be in cohorts with actual pirates, and may be using the fact that they're French to deceive us into believing their innocence." I remember how the Frenchmen paled when the captain mentioned being hung in the gallows. They shouldn't've known what he was saying, but it looks as though they did.

The two men stare at me as if I've grown an extra three heads, two arms and a leg.

The blonde man turns to the captain and says, "Where ever you found this one, we must go back and get more. With a mind set like his, we may uncover the hiding place of those scoundrels who ravaged the Western coasts."

The captain looks thoughtfully down at me. His eyes tell me that he wants nothing other than to hunt down whichever pirate it was that did such horrid deeds. He looks at the light-haired man and says, "I must attend to the goods we've confiscated. Please see to it that this boy receives the instruction he needs to become a proper midshipman."

The man bows. "Of course."

The captain leaves without another word, and I am again forced to ponder if there really is an offensive odor coming off me.

"I suppose I should start by introducing myself," the blonde man says to me, and I turn to look at him. "My name is Joseph Davies, and I am the first mate."

I bow, showing respect for his position. "Topher Thompson, at your service, sir."

"Well, Thompson, this ship could certainly use your brain power. Honestly, the captain, myself and Mr. Fuller are the only people on this godforsaken piece of wood with enough brain power to keep it afloat. That said, glad to have you aboard. Now, about your training..." He walks over to the main mast and I follow.

"A midshipman is a lad training for naval commission. So, you must be able command respect among the crew and navigate your way around the ship in your _sleep_, understood?" He doesn't wait for my reply. "Since it's too late in the evening to be doing any real training, I'll just give you your watch and you can start your actual instruction with Mr. Gardner tomorrow morning."

"Alright..." I say, feeling uneasy. Watch? Watch _what_? And how on earth will I _ever_ be able to 'command respect' from _any_ of these men? I grit my teeth at the idea of doing anything with Mr. Gardner. That man acts like he has a pistol stuck up his ass.

Mr. Davies notices my worry and chuckles. "Don't worry, lad, _all_ officers start out as midshipmen. It's not too difficult. Now," he claps his hands together. "All you must do on a watch is look out for anything odd during the night. Everyone onboard, excluding the ship boys and those who aren't actually part of the crew, has a watch. Each are two hours long. Let's see..." He glances around, sees Wilson and calls, " Wilson, front and center!"

Wilson scurries up to the first mate like a moth to a flame. "Can I help you, sir?" _Oh yeah, sure_, I think, rolling my eyes behind Mr. Davies' back. _Pretend to be all innocent. Go right ahead_. The little twit.

"What watch do you stand on?" Mr. Davies asks, clasping his arms behind his back.

"Midnight, sir," replies Wilson.

"Okay, Thompson, I'll put you on Wilson's watch. That way you'll have someone to show you the ropes. Your shift starts when the midnight bell tolls, and don't dilly-dally too long, or the captain will be after your hide."

"Yes sir," I say, trying very hard to mask my aggravation. Why do I _always_ get stuck with _Wilson_? Does God _hate_ me? It's hard enough to pretend to be a boy in front of all these men, but now I can't go _anywhere_ without that bloody gorgeous _git_ breathing down my neck!

"Well, then, I believe I have business to attend to. Good luck, Thompson. Glad you have you aboard," Mr. Davies says, walking away.

Wilson glares at me. I take a steadying breath and say, "There's no use getting angry at _me_. _I'm_ sure as hell not going to complain about the watch schedule. But y_ou_ can go right ahead."

He mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, "Try and _make_ me," which makes no sense, so I walk away. For once, I'm not the one who has to worry about whether or not they smell offensively.

* * *

The midnight bell tolls and I roll onto my side, facing the wall opposite my bed. 

I don't want to wake up. My feather mattress and blankets are too comfy.

I hear Wilson groan and find a spark of motivation. I pull off my covers, stifling a shiver from the cold night air. Then I leap down from my bunk, landing directly in front of Wilson, who yelps in surprise.

"Bloody hell! Don't _do_ that!" Wilson shouts, obviously caught off guard by my sudden entrance.

I grin evilly at him. "What's the matter? Is the prince scared of the _bogey_ _man_?" I mock, fully awake now.

Wilson mutters obscenities under his breath as he pushes me aside and pulls open his dresser drawers forcefully. Then he promptly takes off his night clothes, leaving him standing almost entirely naked in front of me.

I blush and pretend to be busy fixing my mussed sheets, trying to find something to stare at other than his well-defined back.

Trust me, this is no easy feat.

With a deep, steadying breath, I walk out of the room, since I wore my midshipmen's uniform to bed. (I'm just gonna say now that it's not all that comfortable. I was just nervous about sharing a room with a boy, considering what could happen if he found out what - and who - I truly am.)

As I walk up to deck, I see the moon, full and brilliantly white, making a startling contrast against the inky black sky. Stars dot the heavens like millions of tiny sparkling jewels.

I look around. The others on the midnight watch are scattered around the deck, their eyes half closed, mugs of either coffee or ale in their hands. No one is moving around or doing anything to suggest that they are actually alive.

I sigh. This is going to be a very _long_ two hours.

"Move," an irritated Wilson says, coming up the stairs behind me.

"Yes, your _highness_," I spit back, making my way over to the railing. The water is as dark as the sky and it's impossible to tell where the horizon is. It makes the ship seem like it's floating in space somewhere, stranded in eternal darkness.

I stand there with my arms resting on the railing for all of my watch. There's nothing out there to be watching _for_.

The silence of the deck is punctured by the tolling of the bell, signaling the end of our shift. I sigh as I move away from the rail with one last look at the moon and the stars.

"Hold up there, Thompson," a voice says to me, and I turn around. It's Mr. Davies, the first mate.

"Yes, sir?" I ask uncertainly. It's late, and I would really like to get back to bed.

"I need you to take this down to where the contrabands are being stored." In his arms is a large box. "It's locked, but here's the key."

"Um, alright," I say, as he places the box and a rusting iron key awkwardly in my arms. He bids me good night and walks away.

I scowl down at the box. It's too late for this.

I carry the parcel down past the hall where my bed is calling to me, begging for me to curl up inside its warm blankets. I ignore it and continue to go down to the cargo hold.

The entrance to the hold is locked, and I maneuver the box in my arms to fit the key into the lock. With two turns, the lock clicks, and I lightly kick the door open, stepping into the pitch-black room.

I balance the box on my hip and use my right arm to find a lamp. There's one nearby and, using the flint and steel on a shelf next to it, I light the wick.

When the room is lit, I almost drop the box I'm holding in shock.

The entire hold is filled with every possible contraband imaginable. On one wall, boxes of spices from the bountiful Spice Islands are piled up to the ceiling, perfuming the room with their heavenly spicy scents.

The wall opposite is obstructed by barrel after barrel of wine, beer and rum. I grin, thinking about how quickly the Intrepid's crew could consume all of the alcohol if they could get their hands on the key.

The next wall has many little chests set on long shelves. Setting my box down, I walk over and lift the lid of one chest, gasping when I see the contents. Crystal-clear diamonds, deep blue sapphires, blood-red rubies, dazzling emeralds, cream-colored pearls, gold, silver and all other precious stones imaginable are piled high in each chest. There are necklaces, bracelets, rings - more jewelry than Violet ever owned. Maybe more than the queen, even. There's also a tall mirror, its edges decorated with gold inlayed with garnets. I marvel at its beauty.

But it's the last wall that amazes me more than any of the others. There's bolt after magnificently colored bolt of cloth lining one wall, followed by at least twenty gowns piled high on the floor. I lightly touch each dress, admiring the silk, satin and lace adorning them. If only I could try one on...

I stay still for a moment. It's well after two in the morning, and everyone is either asleep or on the top deck for their watch. There's no reason for anyone to come down to the hold. No one would ever notice if I...

I know I shouldn't. I risk blowing my cover and being thrown overboard. But the gowns call to me as my bed did earlier, and I long to put one on.

Looking around, I pad lightly over to the pile of gowns. Each one is very beautiful, but none would fit me. I could _never_ fill them out.

I sigh, disappointed. I really did want to wear one, so that if nothing else, I could prove that I'm still a girl, still the same Lily Evans I once was.

I remember the box I carried down here and walk over to it, deciding that I can't just leave it in the middle of the floor. _What's in it, anyway?_ I wonder. Then I open the box and stand amazed at what's inside.

It's a dress. But not just any dress. I recognize the style and the embroidery.

It's a London-made gown.

I lift the dress out of the box and survey it. It's a light burgundy color, opening up to rose fabric in the long skirt. The bodice is low yet modestly cut and tight, with off-white lace around the collar. The sleeves stop at the elbow and have the same lace around the bottoms. It is very beautiful indeed.

I hold the dress up to me. It's a bit too long, but other than that, it looks as though it could fit.

I glance around again, listening hard, but there is no noise. Then, making up my mind, I strip off my clothes, until I'm wearing only my undergarments and the bandages tying down my more womanly features. I unwind the bandages and this feeling of freedom comes over me. I'm not hiding anymore.

I step into the gown and pull it slowly up onto myself. The fabric tickles my skin as I fit my arms into the sleeves and look down. I'm almost filling this dress out too _much_, which is amazing, because I have nothing to fill it out _with_.

I walk over to the mirror on the jewelry wall and look at myself, almost gasping. I seem so much older than the last time I wore a dress. Like a…_woman_.

There's a sharp intake of breath behind me and I whirl around, my heart pounding.

Jack Wilson is standing in the doorway.

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A/N: Yes, that did just happen. 

Please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	8. Kissing Away Tears

A/N: Hi everyone! -Ducks as pitchforks are thrown from all directions- Don't you love writer's block? 

I was reading this book about the inside world of HP, and I found out something...interesting. Ron's middle name is Bilius. Yes, Bilius. Oh my God, I feel so very, very bad for him..._Bilius_!

Ok, so for James' ship, I've got the "Marauder" part, but what else? It can't be called just that - it needs to be at least a _little_ bit menacing! HELP! You _know_ I'm not creative enough to come up with something like this on my own!

Just to warn you, there's gonna be a teeny bit of fluff in this chapter. Oh, stop glaring at me. It had to be done! But I've never written much fluff before, so I want your opinion on it...please.

Ok, there are3 things about this chapter I think you should know:

1) I noticed that Sway and Twises are very similar at the moment. When you think about it, both Lilies just got found out, so...

2) It seems like Jack Wilson has Multiple-Personality Dissorder. Basically, that's because he's got this sweet and gentle side (I know, I can't believe it either) and also a side that's really...um...in-your-face, I guess. So at times in this chapter, he'll seem like he has no idea what's going on, and others he'll seem really confident in what he's doing. It'll seem weird. I'm sorry.

3) I'm a 21st century girl. I wasn't alive in the late 1700's. I don't really know how they spoke. So certyian things in this chapter are a bit to modern for then, and I'm sorry.

Oh my God. I got 70 reviews for the last chapter. _70_! Woot! Thanks to give em enough rope, triquetraperson, futurePOTUS, x LiL jEsSi x, jg93, socal4ever, rubber ducky 9, MsMissProngs, It Wasn't Me I Swear, purplepanda7, rubberband11, DarkHeartKeyblade, GoddessoftheMaaN, hotblacknesss, Elfsquire90, grandmaster p, Danni Evans, Queenofrootloops, morgim1103, Eamare, lilytero, choco-crush, queen alexander, sarah is kooky, wIthOUt A nAmE, crownerofkings, Stormy91, Mahazzy, Cleopatra-2012, serindraxx, IamtheHEARTthatYoucallHome, Tayler, the-one-and-only, Sweettarts, liys, Untamed Loner, october tuscany, BreakDanceNotHearts, writersblock, Anjali, tiedye, Daisy Pixie, lexa22, SweetPsychotic2358, Lisa, -Scp-, SerenityEmrys, stormysinger♪1717♪, XxxbabigurlxxX, Vicky-Lee-47, Hazel Maraa, DDwelling, ick, Sweet Vanilla Chocolate, Green Animelover, toriab2, miss-mags-ak, WhiteRosesforme, firewalker32, ReadingRobyn, Anonyme, saarrah, Spirits, adele, addy, Jenny, sirius black and remy, ginny-luna, Lanetk, and jenn. You guys have no idea how long it took me to copy and paste all your names. Thanks guys!

Well, onto chapter 8! (Please excuse all my babbling.)

Disclaimer: ...After taking forever to write this, I don't think I have any creative energy left. I own nothing.

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Wilson is staring at me as I try very, very hard to stay calm, which is very hard to do whilst my brain is screaming at me. 

_He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows he knows..._

Obviously it's not working.

Oh God. I feel like crying. I haven't cried since the day I left. Could it really only have been onboard for less than a week?

"What - what are y-you doing here?" I manage to say without dissolving into a fit. I don't bother deepening my voice as I have for the past few days. What's the point?

But Wilson doesn't answer. He's just staring at me. His gaze slowly travels down my body and back up, coming to a stop at my chest, where a tiny-yet-visible line of cleavage is descending into the neckline of my gown. (Under any other circumstances, I'd have been amazed that I even _have_ cleavage. I would also have blushed considerably and have probably bashed Wilson into the next century for so blatantly _staring at it_, but once again, this is _not_ a normal circumstance.)

We stand there for a long time, him watching my chest go up and down with each breath, me letting him. My mind feels like it's at a stand still.

Finally, he looks up into my face and says, "You - you didn't come back from the watch. So I," he swallows hard, and his Adam's apple bobs. "I went back to see if you had fallen overboard, which you're just _stupid_ enough to do. But someone said you had gone down to the hold, so I assumed you'd be trying to _steal_ something, but when I get here, it turns out you're a...you're a..." He trails off.

I can't look at him anymore. Very quietly, I say, "So you - you were - _worried_ about me?"

Wilson seems to freeze up, almost as if he's afraid to answer. I suppose I'd be too, if I were in his shoes.

I look back up at him, only to find that he's looking away from me, one hand thrust into his silky hair. His face is impossibly red. "Why are you here?" He asks, his voice a bit raw sounding.

I know he's not talking about being in the hold. "I...my - my parents wanted me to marry a man who...well, he's not the nicest of...I couldn't do it. He...he was a horrid, _slimy_ little...my mum said that if I didn't, she'd starve me, but I just couldn't - _wouldn't_ do it, so I...I dressed up as a boy and...here I am."

Wilson nods and the uncomfortable silence drags on. Up on deck, though it seems so far away, the bell tolls, signaling for the next watch. I have no idea what time it is, only that it's likely four in the morning.

I swallow hard, but there's a lump in my throat. Suddenly, tears are springing into my eyes and I feel like I'm going to fall over.

"P-Please don't tell anyone," I practically whisper. I'm trembling. Wilson looks over at me and just stares. "I can't go back. I can't marry him. Please, don't tell anyone. _Please_." I'm pretty much sobbing now, but I don't care. If I get thrown off the ship, I'll be forced back into the clutches of _Violet_ and be literally _dragged_ down the aisle to marry that bastard, Snape. I can't let that happen. I _won't_.

After a bit of watching me blubber, Wilson nods. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank you," I say, not bothering to wipe the tears coursing down my cheeks away.

Wilson is still staring at me like he can't believe what he sees. I don't blame him, though. It's not every day your...well, your enemy turns out to be a _girl_.

After what seems like forever, I say, "I - I need to change..."

Wilson blinks and immediately walks out of the room without a word, closing the door behind him. A strange sense of foreboding washes over me, but I ignore it. It's probably just my nerves. I _was_ just found out, after all.

It takes a while to get the dress off, but I manage it. I glance around the room and find my bandages. With a shaky sigh, I wind them back around my chest, tighter than they were before. I'm being cautious now. If Wilson could find out my secret, then so could the rest of the crew. It's not like I'd be prancing around the deck in all my female glory, but still...

That fear that gripped me as I stepped aboard the _Intrepid_ for the first time creeps its way back into my stomach. What if they _do_ find out? I could be thrown off the boat, killed on the spot, or worse, they could decide to _keep_ me...

God, why am I worrying about this _now_? Why couldn't I have thought of this _before_ I got onboard?

I shake myself hard and try to clear my head of these thoughts as I search for the rest of my clothes. Still, it takes a few moments for me to put them on right, as my hands are trembling.

Finally I'm bound and dressed. Nothing's showing, but my disguise feels faulty now. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. I will go to bed and in a few hours, I will be training to be a midshipman.

A midship_man_.

_You can do this_, I tell myself. _Pull yourself together, it will all be okay..._

I don't even know if I believe myself.

I open my eyes and take one last deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I walk to the door, open it, and walk out.

Then someone grabs my arm and drags me into another doorway.

And suddenly, Jack Wilson is kissing me.

* * *

I'm so shocked that I just stand there. Then something clicks in my head. 

Jack Wilson is _kissing_ me. The bloody gorgeous git is kissing _me_.

And for some reason, despite the fact that my mind is screaming, _Danger, danger_, at me, I _like_ it.

I close my eyes, feeling a warm tingling in the region of my stomach.

Then I remember - this is _Jack_ _Wilson_, the idiot who is _always_ making fun of me, who thinks he's so much _better_ than me. And he's _kissing_ me.

Which means one thing.

He wants to..._have_ me.

There's no way in _hell_ I'll let him.

I quickly pull back from him at the thought. He gazes down at me, a slightly disoriented look in his eyes. "Why did you -"

"Why did you _do_ that?" I ask sharply, cutting him off. I stare directly into his eyes, which snap into focus, and he blushes and looks away.

"I...I...just...well...you don't know what it's _like_, being around a lad that looks _exactly_ like a girl at all hours of the day, and then you actually start _thinking _that the boy's a girl, and then to find out that he actually _is_ a girl...it's...a lot on the nerves. And you can't believe that he - she - is on the ship to _begin_ with, and then you...you..." He trails off.

"You what? Drag her into a remote corner and _kiss_ her?" I hiss at him, realizing that being loud and yelling as I'd like to probably wouldn't be the best thing to do. "That doesn't make any bloody _sense_! Tell me _exactly_ what you mean, and none of this 'You don't know what it's like' idiocy." I grab his upper arms and shake him, at the same time noticing how solid and muscular his arms are.

Something in Wilson's eyes goes funny, and he grabs hold of my wrists and pries my hands off his arms effortlessly. I look from his hands to his face, reading something very bizarre in his gaze.

I try to pull away from him again, but his hands are like iron on my wrists. He lets go of one and brushes his free thumb across my cheek. I freeze. _What the hell...?_

Wilson tips my chin up with his hand and lowers his head towards mine ever so slowly. "Stop it, Wilson," I whisper venomously.

"Call me 'Jack'," he says, and his lips come against mine again, only much, much softer this time. I feel my insides go to mush once again, and close my eyes. How am I supposed to protest to something that feels so _good_?

Then he pulls away, and I am once again sucked into his liquid blue eyes. "What's your name?" He asks softly, his hand still on my chin.

"Topher," I say automatically, desperately wanting to look away from his eyes, but they are holding me prisoner.

Jack - Wilson laughs quietly. "I mean your _real_ name," he says.

I tear my gaze away from his face and stare at the wall opposite us. "Lily," I whisper fiercely.

"Lily..." he says, almost like he's savoring some sort of delicacy. "Beautiful."

"Thank you," I reply stonily, at the same time blushing magnificently.

He's still holding my arm, and I pull it away from him with a force I didn't know I could muster. "I...what does this mean?"

Ja - _Wilson_looks at me as I continue to stare at the wall, and says, "What do you _want_ it to mean?"

I feel like slapping him, the aggravating little bastard. Grr...But of course I don't do that. I simply huff and turn away from him, beginning my journey back to my bed for at least a _little_ sleep before my midshipman's training. Let's see what message he gets out of _that_...

"Hey!" Wilson shouts after me, but I ignore him. I just want to get away from him and never see his perfect face again. My stomach flutters just thinking about it.

Wait, what's going on? I can't- I _couldn't_ actually..._like_ Wilson...

Could I?

I reach my room and slam the door closed, bracing myself against it in attempts to keep Wilson out. I hear him run up the hall and take a deep breath before knocking on the door. "Thompson, open the door." When I don't, he says quietly, "Lily, let me in."

Hearing him call me by my first name makes me go weak for some reason, and I attempt to ignore it. What I can't ignore is Wilson throwing himself against the door, effectively knocking me to the floor. I turn over onto my back as he enters.

Wilson looks down at me and takes a step closer, making me scoot backwards to get away.

That is, until I run into a wall.

Wilson kneels down so that his eyes are nearly level with mine. I gulp, staring into his deep blue-green orbs.

"Why did you run away?" He asks, his voice calm and collective -the exact opposite of how I feel at the moment.

Unable to come up with anything remotely intelligent, I tear my eyes away from his and say nothing.

Wilson sighs and stands up, running his right hand through his honey hair. My own fingers twitch as I watch him. "Look," he says after a while, not looking at me. "I guess - I just...want to get to know you better...as a girl."

I look up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Oh yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

He swoops down on me and kisses me for a third time, pulling away slower this time. I'm paralyzed where I lay and do nothing to retaliate. "Like that," he replies, leaning his forehead on mine.

My breath has become much deeper. "Please get off me," I say slowly.

"And if I don't?" He asks.

I glare at him in all his cheekiness. "I'll do this," I say, bringing my knee up to hit him sharply in the groin.

Wilson gasps and rolls off of me. Freed from his clutches, I jump up and stare down at him. "How's that for getting to know someone better?" I say, before exiting the room and slamming the door behind me.

* * *

A/N: What'cha think? How kick-ass is Lily? 

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	9. Falling Fille

A/N: Don't kill me.

Just so you know, this is a bit of a filler chapter, and worse, it's not even a really _great_ filler chapter. The next one will be better, I swear.

Ok, so I was looking back on previous chapters, and I noticed that in chapter 6, Lily refered to Freddie as Irish Boy. Actually, Irish Boy is really William (Who's gonna be called Willie). Sorry for the error. From now on, Willy is Irish boy, and Freddie is just Freddie. Got that?

I feel rather stupid because I don't know a lot of British slang, much less what they called things in the 1700's. So if I accidentally American-ize the words, I'm sorry.

Thanks to all those who reviewed, especially It Wasn't Me I Swear, x LiL jEsSi x, GoddessoftheMaaN, Elfsquire90, Daisy Pixie, -Scp-, lilytero, Saigo no Megami, Crystal Kisses, rockstar-101, Moony's Warebabe, Untamed Loner, day, give em enough rope, ReadingRobyn, grandmaster p, tango, the-one-and-only, Hollybaby390, Tayler, thelovebugy, lexa22, Green Animelover, agent moriel, SerenityEmrys, Hazel Maraa, Stormy91, smarty pants 91, triquetraperson, MsMissProngs, crownerofkings (-pant pant-), bubblegirl27, SweetPsychotic2358, Danni Evans, kasey07, XxxbabigurlxxX, ick, Lanetk, Eamare, hotblacknesss, IamtheHEARTthatYoucallHome, Viktor Krum's lazyllama101, potterchik, DDwelling, captian jacks grl, I think i'm drowning, purplepanda7, rubberband11, futurePOTUS, scarlet emerald, stormysinger♪1717♪, boiz9, october tuscany, tkdchick28, wIthOUt A nAmE, cylobaby, raymond, Lovin' Life, RedheadObsession, Sweet Vanilla Chocolate, SadieBabe0102, Anonymous, bookworm federation unlimited, hot-chik (-more panting-), Ravie, Åäö, Zemmie, Sweettarts, brittany, Seriously Moony, sirius black and remy:MzPotter, bananas, RavieGrint, FallenMystery, SilverMoonShining, Shattered Serenity, xsweetxgrenadinex, marauderchick, Etar, Zephyras, sapphire stalker, and Elolinone! Love to all!

Well, onto chapter 9!

Disclaimer: People, seriously, if you honestly think I'm JKR, you need help.

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"Hey, wake up."

I groan, realizing that someone is shaking me rather harshly out of my former sleeping state. I open my eyes and, as usual, am blinded by sunlight. (You think I'd've learned _not_ to open my eyes on deck, huh?) I look up to discover who woke me.

It's one of the midshipmen. The one 'my age', Freddie. He's crouching next to me with an odd look on his face.

"Come on," he says, standing. "Breakfast is down in the cabin, and Jack sent me up ta' get you. He's in a strange mood, Jack."

He looks down at my unmoving form again. "Well, aren't you comming?"

I strech my arms high above my head, both of which are asleep, and yawn. "I'll be down in a moment," I say, adopting a deep tone to my voice. Lucky for me, this one still thinks I'm a lad, or so it seems.

The Freddie-guy gives me another strange look, then shrugs and scampers off, presumably down to the midshipmen's berth for a second helping of whatever it is they're serving for breakfast on this godforsaken ship.

Once he's out of sight, I glance about and take in my surroundings.

I'm sitting in the middle of a cluster of barrels and wooden crates, which are piled high above my sitting form. I'd come here afte my little _incident_ with Wilson.

Hidden here, more like.

I shudder as I recall the events of the previous night, and renewed fear seeps into my stomach. Wilson had said he'd keep my secret, but that was before he'd attacked me and I...hit him where it hurts.

Somehow, I don't think he'll be as willing to be my confidant any longer.

I hug my legs to my chest and rest my head on my knees. I'm so _stupid_. Why is it always _me_ who attracts so much unwanted trouble? (Don't answer that.)

I blink and breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm myself down. There's no point blubbering over it now. I mean, it's not like I would've _let_ him have his way with me. _Nothing_ is worth that, not even his silence.

I take a deep breath and stand up.

Suddenly, I feel an over-powering wave of dizzyness and a sharp pain in my chest. I have to brace myself on one of the crates to keep from falling over. Instinctivly, I place my hand over my heart and take deep, slow breaths.

My chest feels as if I've been tied into a corset ten sizes too small. Not a pleasant sensation, let me tell you.

The pain ebbs a bit, but it's still hammering in the region of my, er, more womanly features. I close my eyes hard and shake my head. "It's nothing," I whisper to myself. "Only anxioty. It'll pass as soon as I calm down."

I open my eyes and let go of the crate that's steadying me. I'm a bit wobbly still, but I've managed through much worse.

I take another deep breath and walk down to find something to eat in the midshipmen's cabin. _Food always helps_, I think to myself. And for whatever reason, I'm suddenly ravenous.

On the way down the stairs, I run into Robert Walker, the oldest of the midshipmen. (Why I remember his name, I don't know. It's odd, but he seems vaguely familiar.)

"Ah, _here_ you are," he says, turning around and walking down with me. I wonder for a moment why all of the midshipmen are paying so much attention to me when just yesterday they were basically pretending I didn't exist.

_Oh no..._

"We were a bit worried when Freddie didn't come down with you. Trying to make a big entrance, are we?" He asks, stopping.

I scowl up at him as pain flares once again in my chest. Oh yes, after last night, making a big entracne is _exactly_ what I'd like to do.

But Walker doesn't need to know that.

Spotting the deadly look on my face, Walker laughs and says, "I was only joking. Don't take things so seriously, Topher."

The grin he's flashing at me is lethal, and I have to grab onto the banister to keep from tripping and toppling down the stairs. Why do all the people around me have to be so bloody _handsome_?

Though I'll admit, Walker's not as _alluring_ as Wilson.

Not having anything better to say to him, I huff and continue down the stairs ahead of him. He laughs and hurries to catch up to me.

"You know," he says, his eyes gleaming, "You're a pretty interesting bloke. Where d'you come from again?"

We've reached the hallway. "London," I reply nonchalantly. "And you?"

"I was raised in a little fishing village on the coast of Scotland, then came aboard when I was ten as a ship's boy. I was promoted when I was twelve. Robin, he's my cousin, and since we arrived on the ship at the same time, they stuck us together."

"Ah," I say, nothing else coming into my mind.

The midshipmen's berth is at the very end of the corridor, next to the room Wilson and I share. Walker holds the door open for me and grins, causing me to cast him a nasty look at him before walking through.

The other midshipmen are all here. The guy named Robin's talking to the little Irish boy about something having to do with shackles and ropes. Freddie is sitting next to them, gorging himself. I'll bet he's growing or something. (Great, I'm gonna be the smallest one here. Even the youngest is only a tiny bit shorter than me, and he's thirteen.)

I don't even have to look to know that Wilson is staring at me from where he's sitting in the corner of the room. Just knowing this gives me a weird tingly sensation throughout my entire body and causes my stomach to flip over several times.

Well, isn't this just bloody great. I'm turning into a blubbering boy-obsessed girly-girl, all because the boys around me are good looking. Wonderful. This is exactly what I need right now.

"Well, sit down," Walker says to me, pulling out a chair. "Have something to eat."

As if on cue, my stomach grumbles rather loudly, and I have to bow my head to keep the others from seeing me blush. I mumble my thanks, sit down and pull a plate towards me. There's cold ham, fat sausages and hard biscuits. I load a bit of everthing onto my plate.

I'm about to take a bite of my biscuit, when Robin interrupts me. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"And why's that?" I ask a tad coldly. I'm not always the nicest person when I'm hungry. Or any other time, for that matter.

Walker grabbes my buscuit and starts tapping it on the wooded table. "Because these ships aren't the most clean places to be. There are these little buggers called weevils that love the flour in these biscuits, so you have to do this," he indicates to my biscuit, which is being mercilessly mashed on the table top, "To get rid of them."

I watch in disgust as several tiny little critters run franticly away from the mess that was formerly a biscuit.

"There," Walker says, handing the wad of crumbs back to me. "_Now_ you can eat it."

"You can have it," I say, turning to my ham and sausage, which are thankfully bug free.

Walker laughs and deposits the crumbled biscuit onto a clean plate.

At that moment, Mr. Gardner bursts into the room, his bulk taking up almost the entire door frame. "Thompson!" He bellows, as if he can't see me sitting directly in front of him.

I swallow a bite of my sausage before repling. "Yes, sir?"

"I have just been informed that I am to teach you the ropes of being a midshipmen," he says, seeming none too happy about this decision.

"That is correct, sir," I reply, trying hard not to smile at him.

"I'll have you know that I have no time to be teaching you how to strut around the deck with the rest of these bastards." He indicates to the other midshipmen, and I feel a frown come over my face. "So if you want to be taught anything, have one of them do it!" And with that, he exits, muttering about how litle respect he gets from the captain, Mr. Davies and the crew.

I'm not surprised in the least that no one respects him. He's a right foul git.

...Though his words have made me lose my appitite.

Walker tuts at Gardner's retreating back. "What a jackass. Well," he rubs his hands together, " I suppose we'll just have to get started, then." And with that, he and the others, minus Wilson, stand up and start to exit before I realize that they're going to _teach_ me to be a midshipman. Oi...

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So Walker, Robin, Freddie, and Irish boy, whose name I remember to be Willie, and I are out on deck, staring up at the rigging that runs from the top of the highest mast to the side of the ship.

"So," Walker says after a minute, "we're gonna teach you to climb the rat lines. Think you can handle that?"

I glup and look back up at the criss-crossing section of rope we're standing under. It goes awfully _high_...

Needless to say, heights aren't my _favorite_ thing in the world.

"Um, okay..." I reply, knowing that there's no way to escape going up there.

"Robin," Walker says, turning to his younger cousin, "You're the best at trekking up the rigging, you show 'im how it's done."

"Robin rolls his eyes, then struts over to the nets and, grabbing on tightly, swings himself up onto the rigging.

Walker wasn't kidding when he said that Robin was good at climbing the rigging. He's like a bloody monkey, the way he just scurries up the rat lines like the devil himself's chasing him. Not only that, but he goes up to the crows nest, and let me tell you, that's _high_.

Then he swings himself out of his former place, and he's practically dangling by his hands for a moment. I have to try very hard to stop myself from gasping.

After a few moments, Robin's back on the ground, and it takes all of my will power to stop myself from, fainting, vomiting, and rushing over to him to make sure he's not injured in some way.

Damn maternal instincts...

Robin grin at Walker, and I can't help but noticing that that heart-melting, knee-weakening smile runs in the family. "Was that good enough for you?" He asks, smirking at his older relation.

"It was fine, aside from the disgusting amount of showing off you did. It's not like there are _girls_ around to see you or anything."

The others laugh at Robin's expense, and I chuckle quietly, more to myself than anything. _If only you knew, Walker... _

Walker then turns to me and says, "So, are you ready to try?"

This catches me off gaurd. "Wha-? Oh, but...but I don't really...have any idea what to do..."

"It's easy," the youngest, Willie, says, but it's not as reasuring as he meant it to be. "All's ye' gotta do is hook yer arm like this thrugh the rope." He demonstraights it, and by the looks of it, holding it like that seems a _bit _safer than just using your hands normally. "Then you swing yourself up like this...Then you just climb."

My eyes follow him as he goes up a little ways and comes back down, leaping off the rigging and landing on his feet like some sort of bizzare human cat.

"So, you ready?" Walker says, pulling my out of my thoughs of strange beings.

"Erm...I...I suppose..." I say as I walk timidly to the rat lines, my heart pounding. Even my brain, which is saying, "It's ok, Lily, you'll be fine. That little boy did it, and he's okay..." doesn't calm my nerves.

I grip the rope like Willie showed me and, taking a big breath, cautiously swing my legs over onto the netting. I can hear the waves hitting the ship's hull from where I'm positioned louder than anywhere else on the boat, and I'm suddenly acutely aware that one wrong move could send me straight into the stormy black depths of the ocean.

Not a comforting thought, let me tell you.

"Alright, now put one arm on top of the other, and go slowly!" I hear one of the boys yell. I'm too busy concentrating on not fainting to tell just who yelled at me.

Following the advice, I sluggishly and careful avance up the spider web of ropes, making sure to keep a death-grip on the netting.

Before I know it, I've reached the crow's nest, just as Robin had, and I scramble inside to pull myself back together. After a few deep breaths, I hear the same person shout, "Okay, now, do the same thing you did to get _on_ to the rigging, the swing-you-legs-over thing, only so you're facing the sea! Then climb down!"

I take one last breath and do as instructed after some time. Then, using my legs instead of my arms to hold myself on, I slowly begin to descend to the deck.

I'm about halfway down and feeling pretty good about my progress when that person yells up to me, "You're almost there! Just _don't look down_!"

There's a universal law that says that when a person tells another, more rebellious person not to do something, the latter will instintly do it. And so, I look down.

There I am, so high up on the rigging that the people below me seemed like the dolls little girls play with. Suddenly, I can't breathe, and my eyes buldge twice their normal size. I'm far, far, _far_ too high.

I feel my hands slipping, my feet losing their place on the netting below me, but I can't do anything about it. I'm paralized, staring down at the ground. And suddenly, I'm falling.

The fact that _I'm going to die_ runs through my head, and I say a quick prayer that no one will find out who I am in that case. Then I close my eyes and prepare to be shattered into bits.

But when I finally hit the deck, there's no sudden catastrophic noise, no white light, no voice from above saying, "Come, Lily, my dear child," to me. Hell, there's not even that much pain, aside from my bum, which feels like someone took a branding iron to it..

It's as if I never really fell from those villainous nets to begin with.

So I open my eyes, and at that exact moment, someone groans and says, "Ow..." And I realize that I'm sitting on someone.

And that someone is Jack Wilson.

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A/N: You know, the ending is a lot like one of the chapters in Don't Let Him Go, my first fic, but hey, it worked.

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	10. Fancy That

A/N: So my goal was to update in 10 days. Well, that totally crashed and burned, but only by 3 days.

So for this chapter, I actually went and looked up 18th century medicine for, like, a 3 sentence part. See how dedicated I am? Also, in this, Lily says something like, "Why am I such a girl?" Basically she means "Why can't I be more like a guy? All tough and insensitive." I mean no offense by it, because I, after all, am a girl.

Ok, so I've just finished reading Linda Lael Miller's Pirates for the second time, and I gotta say, IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS ONE ALREADY, THEN DO SO, DAMMIT! It was the first romance novel I ever read, and it's AMAZING! Heck, I based this story off it partially, so it must be good.

-Whacks Raymond- That just about speaks for itself...

Ok, so there's a lot of emotional crap going on in the 2nd half of this chapter. I realize that most guys don't go pouring out their hearts, but due to my extremely limited knwledge of what goes on in the heads of the male gender (aside from the usual perversions), I had to make it a beit sappy. I know it's not realistic, but, hey, I'm a romantic. Romantics like to make things romantic. That would be why we're called romantics. So bear with the un-realistic-ness, please.

Thanks to all 45 of you who reviewed! (Sorry, not enough room to put down all of your names.) However, that's 40 less reviews than last chapter. What happened?

Well, onto chapter 10!

Disclaimer: Hm...I wonder...does JKR sit at her computer for 2 hours a day trying desperately to think of something to write so her reviewers don't kill her? ...Wait, that would be a yes...Ok, people, I'm not JKR. You should really know this by now.

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So here I am, sitting _on top of Wilson_ on the deck of the Intrpid, with all the midshipmen staring at me with their mouths open.

What a _fine_ day this is turning out to be.

I scramble up into a standing postion as the other boys flock around the two of us. It's Walker who speaks first. "Topher...are you alright?" There's a frantic note in his voice.

"I...I'm fine," I manage to say, the gravity of what happened just now sinking in. I cast a wide eyed glance up at the rigging, which is swaying in the wind. My eyes imeaditately fall on the spot where I let go, about half way up the rat lines. From down here, it seems so high up.

A nauseated feeling sweeps over me and I have to grab the ship's railing to keep from collapsing.

"That was the worst fall I have ever seen _anyone_ take off the rigging like that. You're lucky to be _alive_," Robin says to me, something between concern and amazment laced into his voice.

"You didn't even scream," Freddie says, almost in awe. "It's like you knew it was coming..."

A silence falls over us and I look down at my feet, studying the wood on deck, willing myself not to cry.

God, why do I have to be such a _girl_?

A few minutes pass, during which I'm completely aware that everyone's staring at me. Then, because I can't take it anymore, I take a breath and walk over to where Wilson is still laying on the hard wood of the deck.

I stop and look down at him for a moment before he says, "Bloody _hell_, you're heavy."

"Thank you," I say seriously, ignoring his comment. For saving my life? For not telling my secret? For being the only one on this ship who sees me as I am? All of them, or none of them. I don't even know.

Without saying anything, Wilson sits up and massages his stomach where I landed on him. As his hand sweeps over his ribs and he cringes and swears.

"Are you okay?" I ask, amazed that I'm actually concerned for the cretin sitting before me. Though something stirs inside me as the thought enters my head...guilt?

No way. Why would I feel guilt for pointing out what Wilson truly is?

"We should take 'im to The Cochroach," the youngest, Willie, says from my right.

"What's 'The Cochroach'?" I ask him, confused. (As always.)

"It's what we call the doctor," Freddie relpies, also gazing down at Wilson.

"Dr. Roach," Robin adds.

"See, a while back, there was another midshipman your age who got really sick," Walker says, his hands in his pockets. "The Cochroach decided that the kid needed to be bled. But it just made the bloke worse, and he ended up being taken back to his home town, somewhere in Ireland. Last we heard of him, he couldn't even walk."

"Bleeding someone doesn't make them better," I say, qouting Monsieur Pierre Louis, an elderly physician who came to dinner at my former home several times. He was great friends with my father's father, so he was very kind to our family and never failed to explain the gory details of his experiments with the human body. (Once, when he was describing the human intestines, both Petunia and Violet fainted. It was rather funny. Personally, I find Monsieur Pierre Louis' work fascinating.)

"No, and we saw it first hand," Walker agrees, shaking his head.

"Are you idiots going to stand around talking all day, or are you gonna help me up?" Wilson, who was momentarily forgotten, says iritably.

We all look over at him and say, "Oh yeah," then Walker and Robin help pull him to his feet. He winces, then gives me a look that says, _You and I need to talk, so don't go running off again_.

Somehow that makes me feel even worse.

The rest of us follow Walker, Robin and Wilson down past our cabins to a dark and dingy room at what seems like the bottom of the ship. "_This_ is where the doctor sees people?" I ask, disgusted at the sight before me.

"Yup," Freddie says glumly.

_No wonder that boy got so ill after being bleed_, I think, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep them from being contaminated. The instruments are all caked with dirt and blood that's probably decades old. I get an uneasy feeling imagining the man using these tools on Wilson.

Gah, what is _wrong_ with me? Why am I worrying about him?

A short and balding man scurries into the room, seemingly surprised that there are people in here. "Yes?" he asks.

Walker steps forward. "There was an accident on deck. Could you check him out to make sure nothing's wrong with him?"

"Oh, well, I'm very busy," the tiny man stammers, wringing his hands in his lap. We all glare ferociously at him (Mine being the most vicious of them all, for reasons unknown to myself), and he quakes under them. "O-okay..." he says, egding around us to get to Wilson, who's been set up on a table-top.

"Your...your clothing...please remove your shirt," the doctor manages to say after a while. With a little difficulty, Wilson manages to pull his shirt over his head, and I have to try very hard to keep from admiring his rather defined muscles.

I can't be _too_ obvious, now can I?

The doctor picks up one of the disgusting instruments and proceeds to poke and prod Wilson in various place on his torso, apparently looking to see whether or not he winces. I count each time the doctor goes up and down his rib cage. On wince...two...

There's three total. Two on the left, one on the right. God, if ever there was a time I feel that I need to lose weight, this is it.

But I really feel terrible. I mean, it's all because of my stupidity and lack of the ability to follow directions that Wilson got hurt at all. Not that I really care about him at all, but wouldn't _you_ feel horrible if you broke someone's rib? And here, I broke _three_.

I must be the most vile creature alive.

The doctor seems to have come to the same conclusion that I did, because he issue a loud series of coughs and then begins to wrap Wilson's chest in bandages. After that's done, he gives Wilson a sip of something black and disgusting looking before declaring that if in a week there's still pain, he should come back and be bled. I notice the others cast dark looks at the little man as he says it.

Somehow, I think this man's stuck in the 16th century. He looks it, too.

Since 'The Cochroach' is finished with him, Robin and Walker hook their arms back under Wilson's and heave him back up towards the midshipmen's berth, the rest of us trailing behind like lost puppies. When we reach the room Wilson and I share, Walker turs to me and says, "I don't know what it was that Roach gave him, but could you kep an eye on Jack to make sure he actually _survives_ to be 'bled next week'?"

Not to thrilled at the idea of being shut up in the same room as Wilson, I say, "But...what about...my midshipman's training?"

"I think the captin'll excuse you in this case. And it's not like we're gonna tell him..." Walker replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well...alright then," I say, because I can't really come up with a reason not to. At least, not one that I can say out loud to the lads here.

I open the door and Walker and Robin duck inside and deposit Wilson carefully onto his bed. "You alright, mate?" Freddie asks from the doorway.

Wilson gingerly feels his ribs and nods slowly, like he's in more pain than he wants to let on. Ergh, why can't guys just say that no, they are _not_ okay for once in their lifes? I mean, it's not like the others are all gonna turn on him and eat him or something.

Though I suppose I'm being a hypocrite because just a few mintues ago I was wishing to be less emotional. Oh well...

"Okay then," Robin says, and he and Walker move towards the door.

As Walker passes me, his quietly says, "Don't let him leave here or jump out the window or anything like that. This bloke can be as stubborn as a herd of bulls."

"I _heard_ that," Wilson says from his bed, sitting up a bit to glare at the back of Walker's head. Walker grins that horrible gorgeous grin at me and leaves quickly, closing the door behind him.

Great, so now I'm all alone with _this_ idiot. And now my stomachs going all funny and for whatever reason, I really want to get aways from Wilson. Odd...

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I stare at the closed door for a moment, then turn around and walk towards the large dresser. I put my hands on it and look out the tiny porthole window at the foamy waves that crash against the Intrepid's hull, willing myself to calm down as I do so.

"So, what did you want to speak to me about?" I ask after a moment, making no effort to deepen my voice. There's a small tremble in it that I truly hope he didn't notice.

I continue to stare out the window as Wilson replies. "What are you talking about?"

I roll my eyes and turn so that I'm leaning back on the dresser. "Oh, please, I'm not _stupid_, you know. Your looks are very easy to read, and judging by your actions earlier," I say, fighting back the blush that heats up my cheeks just from thinking about it, "You have something important to say.

Wilson averts his eyes, and I turn back around. I don't trust myself to look at him just yet. "So, what was it?"

"I...just...wanted to say...that I'm sorry," Wilson replies, the last bit coming out in a rush, like it was hard for him to say.

Startled by this proclaimation, I whirl back around to face him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Wilson says more clearly, not meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry for...for last night."

He looks up at me with his beautiful blue-green eyes and it suddenly feels very warm in the tiny cabin. "I'm sorry, Lily."

As my name escapes his lips, I feel my heart do a flip-flop, and for what ever reason, I'm paralyzed there, staring into his bloody gorgeous eyes.

What's wrong with me? I...this...isn't happening. That's it, I just imagined that he said my name with a tenderness I didn't know he possesed. I just imagined that my pulse quickened when he looked at me, and that the room got smaller. I imagined it. I did. Really. End of story.

Wilson, who's unaware of the war I'm battling with myself, plows on, looking down once again at his bed sheets. "It's just...when you first came on the ship...you didn't _look_ like a normal boy. You were just too...pretty. And it wasn't just me who noticed, the others did as well. And then...some of the things you did were just...not normal. I...I started wondering why...and I couldn't come up with anything...but it bothered me...and I couldn't stop thinking about it...about you. I...I thought I was...well...that there was something wrong with me...it wasn't right. And I...I...wanted you."

I stand there in front of him, transfixed on what he's saying. _What the hell...?_

Gah, what's with my body today? I must be sick - I just got chills.

"But then...then I found you that night. I'd...I'd waited for you to come back from the watch, but you never did. I got sorta worried, so I went back up, and they said that you were...that you were down in the hold. So I went to find you, and...and..."

"And I turned out to be a girl," I finish for him, both extremely embarrased and, for reasons unknown to me, a little esctatic.

"Yeah...and I just...I was so relieved that I...well, I...I'm sorry," he says, looking as if he were a lost little puppy.

"I...understand..." I say after a moment, not sure what exactly it _is_ that I understand.

Wilson sighs, then continues speaking. "But there's something else. Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

"I beg your pardon?" I say, blushing slightly at his question. What right does he have to ask such a thing?

Wilson has the gull to smirk at me and continues on. "Well, I have, but this time, it was different. When I kissed you, there was something there. I know you felt it, so don't bother denying it," he says, cutting across my unspoken protests. "I know you feel something for me, Lily, whether you want to admit it or not."

Mortified, I scathingly reply, "I'll _thank_ you to not tell _me_ how _I_ feel. I got enough of that at home, thanks. And I'd _appriciate_ it if you'd refer to me as Evans, _Wilson_."

"I thought I told you to call me Jack," he says, not really replying to my demands.

"Right, so I'm just going to automatically listen to you and do everything you say?" I ask sarcastically, throwing daggers at him with my eyes.

"You know, that angry expression really flatters you," Wilson says, grinning at me from his bed.

I back up quickly, doing my best to hide the blush that just rose into my cheeks. "Oh, I'm not angry, I just hate you," I reply icily, moving towards the only door out of the suffocating room.

"You know that's not true," Wilson says, sitting up a bit to keep me in sight. "I don't care what you say, Lily, but you fancy me. I can just tell."

This statement increases my anger to the breaking point. "Go to hell!" I yell as I throw open the door and practically run out. After slamming itclosed again, I back up against the wall behind me and slide down it until I'm sitting on the hard wooden floor.

Fear seeps into me as I think about Wilsons words.

It doesn't mean that. That's not what those things mean. I'm not feeling all jittery around Wilson because of that. I'm not.

I don't fancy Wilson. I _don't_

But even I, poor, niave, _stupid_ little me, know that's a lie.

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A/N: Can you say 3rd longest chapter ever?

Well, please review! (That's not a request.)

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	11. Starry, Starry Blight

A/N: Happy Halloween, watashi no tamodachi! (Yup, I take Japanese. Did you know that they don't celebrate Halloween in Japan? Those poor deprived people...) I'm being Moaning Myrtle this year. I know, shocker.

So, in the last chapter, Lily said, "Call me Evans," to Jack, and that was obviously a typo. I could play it off like I meant to put that in and pretend to be all savvy in my writing ability, but I won't and I'm not. Thanks for pointing it out for me.

**READ ME:** This is the _last_ time I'm gonna say it, and I'm sorry if it sounds rude or whatever, but 1) Jack is not James, James is not Jack. Jack is Jack, and James is James. End of story, and 2) James and Co. are coming in chapter _14_. I hope that clears up any questions you guys might have.

Does anyone know where I might be able to find a CD with I Must Not Chase the Boys by Play on it? I love that song, and I can't find it! Please help!

So right now I'm listening to Trans-Siberian Orchestra's version of Carol of the Bells. It's a Christmas song, but I love it. (Random!)

Ok, so I'm worried. A lot of my regular reviewers haven't been reviewing. Is it because of me? Am I such a bitch that you guys aren't reviewing to spite me? (Beacause, you know, the _whole world_ revolves around me. -Blinks- Sarcasm, people.) Or is it because you think my story wholly sucks and you don't have anything nice to write about? Seriously guys, if you don't hate either me or my story, please review. I like hearing from you.

Anyways...thanks to those who _did_ review, especially rockstar-101, goodie2shoes19, Green Animelover, pssh dork wad, the-one-and-only, cerdinalz, FallenMystery, hpisthegreatest, lilytero, wIthOUt A nAmE, babi-gurl-chels, sapphire stalker, ajlkf sdjslfk, Zimo, RavieGrint, opalshine, Etar, Tayler, Untamed Loner, SweetPsychotic2358, EvilFaerie17, choco-crush, Sweettarts, la tua cantante, triquetraperson, Ashley James Potter, love life, Hermes22, Serenity Emrys, Anna, futurePOTUS, The Labyrinths Scribe, potterlover, debbiegirl, serindraxx, Dutty Non, ick, Daisy Pixie, MahoganyEmbersIsAGobstopper, liakenzie, 'you know who' (You will die), october tuscany, kinkanpot, scarlet emerald, Lady Eowyn of Ithilien, Monkey Face, xsweetxgrenadinex, EmilyEB, james-s2-lily, Rxc, SilverJadlyn, Jamie, Enchanted Princess Gal, Heaven's Flying Fish, lady potter7447, and dracosfling.

Well, onto chapter 11!

Disclaimer: The book of poems that I'm published in finally came in. I don't believe JKR is a poet...

* * *

"You really like sleeping out in hallways, don't you?" A voice, which I recognize as Robin's, says, drifting in through my half-awake mind. I groan and stretch my arms high above my head, then open my eyes. 

It takes me a minute to remember that I'm in the hallway outside my room, and I blink and look around, unsure of myself for some reason.

"It's time for your watch," Robin says, extending a hand to help pull me up. "Since Jack's kinda...disabled, I'm taking over, so whenever you're ready..."

"Oh," is all I can say, since I'm still tired. It seems like I can never get a decent night's sleep around here. I take hold of his hand and hoist myself up, then the two of us walk down the hall towards the stairs.

It feels unnatural to go up on the deck without either the bright sun or Wilson being there.

The fact that one of my first thoughts of the day was about Wilson doesn't seem to upset me as much as it usually would. Instead, I shake my head to clear my mind, my hair tickling me as it swings back and forth around my face. I probably should cut it again, just so that no one _else_ guesses my secret.

"So...I guess I'll see you," Robin says before walking towards the other side of the ship, his hands in his pockets. As I watch his back move further and further away from me, I get a weird sensation in my stomach. It's as if...as if I finally got a taste of what it's like to be around people who can tolerate me - people who maybe even _like_ me - and then they all abandon me.

Like my mother and Petunia...

Robin walks along the rail of the ship, then turns around and smiles at me. I smile back half-heartedly, then turn and walk towards my side of the ship. The fact that I'm thinking about Petunia makes me cringe in disgust. It's not like she ever liked me to begin with. I guess it just would've been nice if she _had_, even just a little bit.

I chuckle quietly at my childish thoughts as I move to lean on the rail and look out into the water. I'm being so bloody dramatic. But hey, it's better than contemplating what Wilson said earlier...

"Hey," someone says from behind me, and I don't even have to turn around to know who it is.

_Speak of the devil and he will appear..._Only this time it's a tad bit too literal.

"I thought you were...'disabled'," I say, quoting Robin. I do not turn to face him.

"Yeah, well, I'm not," he replies, moving so that he is standing on my left, resting his weight on the rail just as I am. I look sideways at him and see his profile outlined in the moonlight, his skin taking on a celestial glow.

Then he looks sideways at _me_ and our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds. I turn away quickly, glad that he can't see the blush on my cheeks in the darkness.

We both stand there for quite some time, just staring out into the water, neither of us saying anything. It's almost...nice, the night being so calm and clear...

But it'd be a while lot nicer if my damn cheeks would stop turning red.

"You know, there's no use lying," Wilson says suddenly.

Startled, I turn to look at him full on. "What are you talking about?"

Still looking out at the water, he replies, "Lying won't get you anywhere, since we both know the truth."

_Ah_. So he had to go and bring _that_ up.

What was I saying about this being a calm night?

Being determinately stubborn, I say, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not lying to myself or anyone else for that matter."

At this, he turns his entire body towards mine. "You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, so stop trying to act innocent," he says, his azure eyes probing deeply into mine.

" Wilson, you're right, I _do_ know what you're talking about. But _you_ don't. You have no _idea_ how I feel about anyone, so stop pretending to be all-knowing and leave me _alone_."

"I told you," he says, taking a step closer to me and forcing me to back up a step, "Call me Jack."

"I will not," I reply stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I only call people I _like_ by their first names, and you definitely don't fall under that category." (Well, I don't hate Walker, but that's a different matter.)

"Oh, really." It was a statement, not a question.

Wilson glances around, then, before I can get one word in edge-wise, he grabs my wrist and practically drags me off the deck and back down to our room. He closes the door behind us and then turns around, taking a step towards me.

Backing up, I gulp quietly before saying, "If you take another step closer, I will personally see to it that you never have children." My voice shakes slightly, and I pray that Wilson didn't hear it. I hate that I am utterly vulnerable at the moment, and unfortunately, it looks like Wilson knows that.

But he doesn't stop coming closer. I step back until I'm up against the dresser, and then I know that I'm trapped. I look around helplessly and spot my old pen knife lying on the dresser behind me. I pick it up and brandish it at Wilson, who is so close now I could reach out and touch him.

"Take another step and I'll cut your nose off," I say in what I hope was a deadly serious voice.

Of course, Wilson ignores me, prying the knife effortlessly out of my hands and throwing it behind him, where it clatters noisily onto the floor.

I swallow hard and look up into Wilson's eyes as he takes another step. "What do you want from me?" I ask him, almost desperately. "Do you want me to beg, to grovel? Well, I'm not going to."

Wilson is directly in front of me now, our bodies mere inches apart. He lifts his hand and touches my right cheek. I shiver outwardly and look down at the floor. I know what's coming next, and I also know that I most certainly _don't_ want it to happen.

"Lily," Wilson whispers, his breath tickling my face as he gets closer to me. His thumb gently strokes my cheek, and I find my defenses slightly weakening.

Wilson lifts my face up towards his, which is so close, far too close. That strange swooping sensation seeps back into my stomach as he slowly lowers his face to mine.

"Stop," I say in a weak, feeble voice. (Had my mind not been so clouded, I might have noticed that the way I said it made me sound submissive and, well, girlie. Ugh...)

But of course, Wilson doesn't listen to me. His lips come down on mine, and I struggle against him as the familiar warm feeling takes me over. After a few moments, I can't stop myself from moaning and leaning slightly into him, relishing in the warm firmness of his body.

Wilson smiles into my lips and kisses me a little harder.

Who would've thought that kissing this bastard would feel so _good_?

His arms slid around my waist, holding me firmly-yet-gingerly against his injured chest. I in turn wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him closer to me as I play with the loose golden hairs on his neck.

After a few moments, in desperate need of air, I pull back from him to take a few ragged breaths. Without missing a beat, Wilson begins kissing my neck, going from the spot just below my chin to my collarbone and back up. My breathing becomes _slightly_ more labored.

Chuckling quietly, Wilson returns his attentions to my mouth.

Well, something must be said about this guy. For all that he is a horrid bastard, he's a damn good kisser.

* * *

A knocking sound comes from behind us, and I jump back from Wilson as if I'd been touched by a branding iron. 

"Topher? Jack?" Recognizing Walker's voice, I move forward to open the closed door.

Stepping into the room, Walker jokingly asks, "Did you leave early just to come and visit precious little Jacky over here?"

_You don't know the half of it_, I think as my cheeks blaze crimson.

Walker laughs at my discomfort. Wilson, who is still standing behind me, says nothing. "I'm only joking. I know you guys aren't _that_ close." He winks at me. "But you must've left early, though, since Robin said you weren't there when he came down."

"Oh - yeah, well, I wasn't feeling too well," I reply, looking at the floor.

"Jack's keeping you awake, I see."

"Ugh, I've had enough of this. I'm going to bed," Wilson says from behind me.

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving. Don't harass Topher while I'm gone. We don't need another corrupted one." Walker yawns, then shuts the door.

Suddenly the gravity of everything hits me like lead. _I snogged Wilson..._

Oh God.

"Hey," Wilson says from behind me. I turn and see him lying in his bed, his arms supporting his head on his pillow.

"So have you decided what this means?"

I swallow and look at the floor. "I was hoping you'd tell _me_."

Wilson groans loudly put a hand over his eyes. "You really need to not do that," he says with some strain.

"...Do what?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"You - you get this...defenseless look on your face sometimes. It makes you look...delicate. Almost like a girl."

I cross my arms across my chest. "Hopefully you've realized by now that I _am_ a girl, Wilson." I open the door leading out of our room and stop in the doorway. "But thanks for the compliment."

"I told you to call me Jack," Wilson says as I shut the door.

I sigh, then smile. Calling him Jack would be difficult, now that I'm used to thinking of him as an arrogant ass.

Feeling kinda bad that I left less than halfway through my watch, I climb the stairs up to the main deck. The night air is cool and slightly crisp - fall's coming soon. It'll be strange to be in the middle of the ocean instead of being on land, where all of the trees' leaves are going up in a flame of brilliant and vibrant color.

Sighing, I look up at the nighttime sky. (Or rather, the sky as it is at three in the morning. Is that still considered night?) The formerly clear black mass is now half covered by clouds, so few stars are visible, but it's still beautiful, just like a painting.

"What're you doing up here?" A voice says from my right, startling me.

Walker laughs at me. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone jump that high."

I conceal my blush and hiss, "Don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry, sorry," Walker says, his laughter subsiding. "Why're you up here?" He repeats. "Your shift ended already."

"I know, but I felt kinda bad leaving beforehand, so..."

"Here, you're gonna need this," Walker says, handing me a mug of coffee. "You're daft if you're actually willing to do a double shift out here."

"Gee, thanks," I say sarcastically. "But won't you need this?" I hold up the mug, looking at him. (Which would be a whole lot easier if he weren't so tall. Or if I weren't so short."

"Nah," he replies, leaning on the railing next to me. (I get the feeling that this has all happened before...) "It doesn't work for me, anyways. Too much of it when I was young."

"I see," I say, taking a sip and letting the hot, bitter liquid slide down my throat and warm my body.

Walker and I stand there for a while, and I get the oddest feeling, as if I'm with someone I've known forever. Kind of a feeling like...family.

Which is absolutely absurd, because I'm sure I've never met Walker before in my life. But...for whatever reason, when I'm around him, I feel safe, like I'm with an older brother or something.

Oh well, no point in trying to understand my bizarre logic. We've already established that I'm not exactly sane, haven't we?

"So, have you heard the news?" Walker asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

"...Uh, no. What news?"

"We're going to land to ship the cargo we took from the Frogs back to the king. We're docking in a country called Guinea tomorrow evening."

"Oh?" I ask, not really sure what to make of this information.

"Whenever we go into port, the crew gets most of the time we spend there off. I've been to Guinea once. There's a lot to do there. I think we'll be in a British colony, so there'll be plenty of things to do."

"By things, he means plenty of lasses to keep us company." I turn and see Freddie walking towards us.

"Ah," is all I say. It's not like the promise of lasses really fazes me.

Freddie leans onto the rail on my other side. "Should I even ask why you're here?" He looks a me with a boyish grin on his face.

"Nope," I reply, looking back out at the pitch black ocean.

"I have an idea, Frederick, my good fellow!" Walker says suddenly.

"And what is that, Your Excellence?"

"I believe we should make it our mission to find Christopher here a girl!" Walker exclaims exuberantly, bringing a fist down against the railing.

"Aye aye, sir!" Freddie replies, saluting to Walker's large form.

Oh dear God...

"I'm quite fine without a girl at the moment," I say, but to no avail. Walker and Freddie have already moved away from me, talking loudly about how I'm going to be turned into a "dashing fellow".

How wonderful.

I close my eyes and shake my head, a small smile coming over my features.

If nothing else, life aboard the Intrepid is certainly never dull.

* * *

A/N: ...One chapter closer to James's arrival...-Fangirls squeal- 

Well, please review! (All 1,715 of you.)

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	12. Lasses be Loved

A/N: Erm, hi... -Looks around meekly- Ok, before you spear me, MY COMPUTER CRASHED and I had to reinstall EVERYTHING. It totally was not my fault!

To all the Americans who read this, Happy Turkey Day!

So I cut my hair. It's just above my shoulders and sorta emo-ish, but I don't really care. (I'm not emo, just so you know.) I think it looks cool, but I don't really look like Myrtie anymore! -Sniffs-

Thanks to futurePOTUS, DaisyPixie, rockstar-101, SweetPsychotic2358, GreenDaygirl1, Hermes22, Anna, lilylele, Booksurfer1500, ReadingRobyn, EvilFaerie17, GreenAnimelover, AshleyJamesPotter, potterchik, EmilyEB, firewalker32, PinkerBelle, FallenMystery, Kel, Sweettarts, CarolineL/J fan, james-s2-lily, scarletemerald, sarahiskooky, NuemNe, Rxc, RavieGrint, Amarthiel, lilytero, Taylor, HazelMaraa, psshdorkwad, random-lemon, anonymous, ladypotter7447, UntamedLoner, TheMarauders4eva, Etar, Suddy, Parvatti, AluraLabeztieh, dracosfling, PureHeartedReflections, -Scp-, ali, crownerofkings, serindraxx, EnchantedPrincessGal, dreamingangel92, ick, WoolyJumper, siriusblackandremy, missnenyim, octobertuscany, Running!, orangeokapi13, SilverJadlyn, cylobaby, Raymond (who lives? is right), LaughingManiac, Hollybaby390, merediththefairyprincess, debbiegirl, vertebrata, bookwormfederationunlimited, siriusforeva, hanabanana, littleginnygirl, MoonPuppy4eva, PICNIC-at-the-disco, lily-potter-the2nd-and1/2, and MahoganyEmbersIsAGobstopper. You guys rock!

Kel: Here's my reply to the review you sent: Thanks for revieiwng. I'm sorry that I don't update often. But seriously, I know people who haven't updated in 9 months, whereas I've gotten about 10 chapters up in that time. I really wish I could update more, but I've got a time limit on the computer and too many activities to get on very often. I don't do it just to torture my reviewers, honest. So your patience is much apprieciated. Then, about your other point, I'm sorry you feel that Lily doesn't deserve to have a life before and/or without James, but seriously, I can't say I agree. Nor do I agree with the idea of tailoring my fic to just one reviewer, because that's what I'd be doing if I followed your orders. I like my story the way it is, and really, that's all that matters. If you don't like the way it's going, then don't read it. Thanks for your imput. Hugs and fuzzles. (And just so you know, you can't 'ship a ship'. 'Ship' is a shortened form of 'relationship', and the last I heard, it is not physically nor grammatically possible to relationship a relationship.)

Well, onto chapter 12!

Disclaimer: Urg, I have no uimagination left after this chapter. No suing, or I'll never update again.

* * *

So here's what I've come up with in the last five minutes: 

First, Wilson fancies me. (Though you've probably figured that out already.)

Number two, I, no matter how much I may try to deny it, fancy Wilson. (I'm torn between glaring at myself and jumping for joy. That's right, jumping for joy.) Even the _idea_ it makes me slightly giddy.

And lastly, coffee is not a good thing to drink right before you go to bed. (Which could, now that I ponder it, be why I'm so giddy.)

I blame the latter for the fact that I am even _thinking_ about all of this, since it is because of it that I'm tossing about my bed, desperately trying to _fall asleep_.

Obviously it's not working.

Wilson is in his bed below me, his slow and steady breathing indicating that he's been asleep for a while. I'm just lying here listening to him with my eyes closed, my mind attempting vainly to clear itself.

For whatever reason, I'm calmed by the sound of Wilson's breathing. I know that sounds a bit strange, but I really don't have an excuse for it. I guess it's just comforting to have someone there with me, and knowing that I'm not nearly as alone as I think.

But there's something else, too. It's hard to explain, but...I think that having him in the same room as me makes Wilson seem more...real, more alive. And that scares me, because it means that what I feel for him is real and alive as well.

I roll over to block out the quiet sounds coming form the bed below me. Thinking about someone like this is a little unsettling.

I shift so that I can see out of the tiny porthole over the dresser at the other end of the room. The sky's dark, but there aren't any stars out, which means that it's probably into the wee hours of the morn.

Right as I think this, the door to the room Wilson and I share (I blush slightly at the idea of there actually _being_ a 'Wilson and I', and at the fact that we're sharing a room. Scandalous, as Violet would say) is literally kicked open, and Walker, Robin, Freddie and Willy all come bounding in.

I sit up quickly and consequently smack my head on the low ceiling above my bed. Uttering curses, I shoot the four of them death glares. Willy actually backs up a step away from me as I hear Wilson groan loudly and mutter, "What the hell...?"

"Is there any particular reason why you've all come bursting in here like some sort of barn animals?" I ask, incredibly annoyed. I look over at me grandfather's pocket watch. "Bloody hell, it's only _three in the morning_! Wake up call's not for two _hours_!" I glare accusingly at them from my high perch.

I have every right to be mad, here. I haven't slept well since Wilson found out I'm a lass. Two hours is a big deal.

"Sorry, Topher," Robin says, ducking as I throw my pillow at him and cross me arms in agitation.

"But since we had to call your last training session short, Walker here decided that you needed to get the basics before we hit land."

"What d'you mean, 'before we get ashore'?" Wilson asks, glaring at Robin. "Why'd no one tell me we're going to port? _Where_ are we going to port?"

"Guinea," Walker says calmly.

"Ah, Guinea," Wilson repeats with a sort of lust in his voice, loosing his annoyed appearance and standing up out of his bed. "Haven't been there in a loooong time."

"What's so great about Guinea?" Willie asks. At least _someone_ knows as little as I do.

"Let's just say," Freddie says, his eyes shifting over to Irish boy, "That the port in Guinea is known for its female population."

I glance quickly over at Wilson, who is gazing steadily back at me. He smirks slightly. "Mm, they're nothing out of the ordinary."

"'Nothing out of the ordinary'?" Walker asks, sounding dumbfounded. "Tell me you haven't forgotten about Adeline."

"I remember Adeline," Robin says, a smile lighting up his features.

"Who's Adeline?" I ask, still looking at Wilson, who winces slightly.

"I'll tell you when you come up to deck..." Walker says, leaving the room. The others follow him.

I quickly slide out of bed and land on the floor next to Wilson. Then, opening my drawer in the dresser, I pull out my pants and put them on under my nightshirt. "Turn around," I command Wilson, who actually listens to me for once. I slip my shirt off over my head and immediately replace it with my midshipman's one. A pinprick of pain runs up my chest as I lift my arms above my head, but I may it no mind.

As I sit down on the lower bunk to slip on my shoes, Wilson turns around and leans his arm onto the wood beam holding my mattress up. Looking down at me, he says, "You don't really want to know about Adeline...?"

"Oh, but I do," I say haughtily, standing up and putting my hands on my hips. "I intend to know the full story." I duck under his arm, making sure to brush up against it, and leave the room. After a second, Wilson follows me out.

* * *

"So," Walker says as the two of us step out onto deck. "You ready?" 

"What do I have to do?" I ask, looking around me. The sky's a dark grey, cloudy even in the early hour. Knowing my luck, if I had to go up on the rigging again, I'd be hit by lightning.

"Alright, then," Walker says, and he leads the five of us over to what Mr. Fuller labeled as a gun station. Or at least I think that's what it's called...I wasn't really paying much mind to him when he was giving me the grand tour.

"This is the Division One port bow gun station," Walker says, patting one of the four cannons next to him, and I give myself a mental pat on the back for remembering that bit of information. "You'll be in charge of the guns and the men who operate them."

My cheerfulness disappears at that new bit of information. "I'm going to be giving orders?"

"Aye, and you'll take over as commanding officer of them as well. They'll have to do whatever you say."

_Oh, brilliant_, I think. I'm going to be commanding a group of men with giant cannons. Wonderful.

What was I saying about not standing out?

Walker hasn't stopped speaking, so I tune back into him and fight to keep a calm look on my face.

"It'll be your job to exercise the guns and make sure the men are presentable for inspection. There are seventeen positions for the crew at a gunning station, and four stations total. The highest rank, First Captain - that's you - aims and fires the guns. The Second Captain takes over in case you should fall."

Cheery thought, that.

"Then there are three men on pikes. They use the pikes to ratchet guns back and forth, up and down on your command. The swabbers and rammers, seven of them, ram the powder charges in, then the ball, then the wad. After firing, they wet the swabs on the bulkhead to clean and cool the barrels. Their job is very important, because if they don't do it thoroughly, the next bag of powder in it may misfire and the gun may explode."

I can nearly feel my hairline moving back to give my eyebrows a place as they climb up my forehead. Not only do I have to worry about actually getting the men to _listen_ to me and not get the orders mixed up, but I also have to worry about exploding guns.

This day has gone from bad to worse, and the sun hasn't even risen yet.

"All of the other men are on the ropes, and the ships' boy in your crew is the powder monkey. Any questions?"

How am I going to do this without making a huge fool of myself and revealing my secret to the entire crew?

"No," I say, shaking my head. Asking that would bring up too many unwanted questions.

"Well, then, when we are not at battle or exercising the guns, you'll pretty much just help to make sure the ship is in order, or work on climbing the rigging. We don't need another fall like the last one." He grins at Wilson, who is standing behind me. I surprise a blush.

"Then, of course, there are the watches, which you've already been assigned to." Walker clasps his hands behind his back and bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So, onto the names of everythin' here..." He steps forward and proceeds to do almost the exact thing Mr. Fuller did on my first day aboard, only I actually listen this time.

Once he's finished labeling everything on the right, er, starboard side of the ship, he moves to the other. He's incredibly knowledgeable about the ship and seems so sure of himself as he names everything for me. I envy him a bit.

As if reading my thoughts, Wilson leans over and whispers, "He's not Senior Midshipman for nothing," right into my ear. I shudder slightly.

"Damn right," Walker says, turning around back to us. Then he sighs. "For some reason, I expected that to take much longer." He looks over at the horizon, where the faint tell-tale pink lines in the sky indicate that sunrise is in just a few moments.

"Well, the sky doesn't look clear enough to exercise the guns today, so maybe you'll get off without doing anything. Again."

I grin sheepishly in spite of myself. I know very well that I would never be able to remember any of the things he explained to me if I had to go up there and do it all by myself.

"So, about this Adeline girl..." I say, lifting one eyebrow.

Wilson looks down at me. "You don't forget a thing, do you?"

"Never," I reply.

"We-ell," Walker says, not looking at me, "Adeline was a girl-"

"Not _just_ a girl," Robin interrupts.

Walker sighs again. "Alright, she wasn't just a girl. She was a bloody gorgeous girl who we met in Bolama, the port we're going to."

"It's actually an island off a' Guinea," Freddie interjected. "Since the Portuguese actually have control of the country."

"Thanks for that history lesson, Frederick," Robin says, grinning. Freddie blushes bright in the early hour.

"Anyway..." Walker says exasperatedly. "She was a serving wench in a tavern where all the crew went to eat. And she took a particular liking to us midshipmen."

The way he referred to this girl as a wench angers me a bit, but I hold my tongue. She couldn't be so bad as to deserve such a title, but I'm not necessarily familiar with what exactly you'd call a girl who works in a tavern, as I've never been to one.

"Especially our Jacky, here," Walker continues, cuffing Wilson on the shoulder. The latter doesn't look too pleased about the course this conversation is taking, but we can't have everything we want, now can we?

"So you can imagine how heartbroken she was when she found out we were leaving in two days. But the two of them spent a whole lot of time together before we left port, if you know what I mean," Walker says, winking one lovely ebony eye at me.

For some reason, this information upsets me, and a brief flicker of recognition lights up in my mind. I can't be...jealous, can I?

"It was a long time ago," Wilson says somewhat miserably, not meeting my eyes.

"Well, hell," I say, pushing back whatever feelings I may have on the matter. "At least you've got a lass. Me, I'm all alone here." I spread my arms out wide for emphasis and grin, and it's actually real, because I know that there's only one lad here who can see through my lies.

"We'll just have ta' fix that, then," Walker says. "You'll be a new man by the time we get to port, Topher Thompson. We'll find a girl for you no matter what the cost."

"I can hardly wait," I say, my sarcasm barely detectable.

The wake up bell tolls, signaling the start of breakfast, and the others all rush off to go eat. _Boys_, I think, watching them go.

"Don't be upset," Wilson says from behind me, and I turn, surprised that he's still there.

"I'm not," I say, somewhat truthfully, shifting back to the railing of the ship. "What happened in the past is history. And besides, it's really none of my business."

"Yes, it is," Wilson says, grabbing my arm and turning me towards him.

"What's that supposes to mean?" I ask, a little flabbergasted.

"Just what I said. I...I'm no good with all these..._feelings_, but..." He looks deeply into my eyes and leans forward to kiss me, but I stop him with one finger on his lips.

"We can't do this here, you fool," I say with a smile. "Someone will see, and they'll _leave_ me at whatever port it is we're going to."

Wilson grins back, moving away from me. A gust of wind blows up through my hair, and my red tresses fly rampantly around my face.

Wilson smiles and tucks some of my mad tangles behind my ear. "I'm going to the mess," he says, turning and looking over his shoulder at me. "You coming?"

"Nah," I reply, moving back to the railing. "I think I'll stay here for a little while."

Wilson nods and turns to go.

A sudden strange impulse grasps me, and I open my mouth and call, "Oy, Jack!"

He turns around rapidly, a stunned expression on his face.

"Save me a seat?" I ask sweetly, batting my eyelashes.

_Jack_ recovers himself and grins a most silly grin, then turns and practically skips down the stairs. I chuckle as I watch him.

When he is out of sight, I lean my arms on the railing and whisper, "Jack," testing it out on my tongue. There's something...intimate about calling him by his first name, but still, I like it.

I smile at my girlish-ness and shrug, knowing there's nothing I can do about it, because after all, that's what I _am_. Shoving all thoughts of _Jack_ from my mind, I turn towards the stairs and walk slowly to them. I have bigger matters to think about.

Like how I'm going to avoid "getting a girl" while in Bolama.

_Ah well, when a plan comes, it comes_, I think as I take off to follow Jack.

* * *

A/N: -Scratches head- Hm...this feels a little fillerish...oh well. It's still one chapter closer to James! -Fangirls squeal louder- 

Well, please review! (I want to get to 600!)

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	13. Dressing the Part

A/N: One word: Midterms. Yeah.

So, this chapter and the next are pretty much going to be the most important ones of them all, so it took me _forever _to get it right. Hopefully it turned out good, though.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! (Sorry, no time to name you all today.) Love you lots!

Well, onto chapter 13!

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

* * *

I've got the perfect plan for getting the boys off of their Let's Get Topher a Lass tangent.

I'm gonna fake being sick.

Alright, so it's juvenile, but I need them to think that I'm staying onboard all day so that my _real_ plan will work.

It's six in the morning right now, and everyone else is still in bed. Here we go...

I take a deep breath and let out a long series of hacking coughs, loud enough to wake Jack up.

"Lily...?" He says groggily as I continue to cough until my lungs ache. All the while I pretend to be asleep.

"Lily," Jack says more forcefully, getting out of bed and reaching up to shake me. I open my eyes dramatically and sit up suddenly, one hand flying to my mouth, the other to my stomach. I groan miserably.

"Are you alright?" Jack asks, looking concerned.

Bless him.

"I - I think so. I -" Another string of mock-coughs escapes from my throat.

"Can you get out of bed?" Jack asks, one of his hands on my arm. I nod, then stumble off my bunk, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

I blink and grab the bed's support beam. "Ugh..."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I...I think the floor is moving..."

"Well, we're on a boat..."

I shake my head. "No, the...the room's spinning. I think I'm going to..."

I slump to the ground as Jack's arms go around me to stop me from hitting the cold wooden floor. He pushes me onto his bed and leaves the room, presumable to get the others.

A few seconds later, Jack and the others burst through the door. I muster up another slew of hacking and groan loudly.

"Topher. Topher! Wake up!" Walker says, shaking me wildly.

I crack my eyes open, making sure to keep them unfocused. "...Uh..."

"What's wrong, Topher?" Robin asks, coming up on Walker's left.

"Maybe it was something he ate. You never can tell with the food on this ship."

"I'll go get the Cockroach," Freddie says, starting to leave the room.

I groan again and shake my head violently. "I'm fine," I rasp.

Of course they don't believe me. "You're ill, and you need medical help."

"No, this happens every year. I've always been fine..."

"But-"

"I just need some coffee. And whiskey, if you please."

Walker studies me for a moment, then says, "Willie, Freddie, go down to the mess and get some coffee and whiskey." They leave without saying anything.

"Are you sure he'll be alright with just that?" Jack asks, anxiety in his voice.

"I'll be okay," I say, smiling a tiny bit at him. Walker catches it and looks between us for a second.

"What happened?" Robin asks Jack.

"I don't know. He was coughing when I woke up, and then he said the room was spinning and fainted..."

"Got it!" Freddie cries, running into the room. In his hands is a steaming mug with coffee sloshing over the sides. Willie sprints in behind him carrying someone's hipflask.

"Here, mix them together," Walker said, urging the boys to set the liquids down on the bureau.

Willie pours almost the entire contents of the flask into the coffee before I say, "That's enough, Willie. I don't need to get drunk when I'm trying to get better."

"S-sorry," the young Irish boy stutters.

"S'okay," I reply, taking the mug as Walker hands it to me. I close my eyes and pretend to drink deeply from the vile mixture. All eyes are on me as I move the mug from my lips, sighing contently.

"Will you be alright now?" Robin asks.

I nod. "I told you, I'm fine. Now scat, all of you, before the rest of the crew wakes up and takes all the good lasses."

"We'll bring one back for you," Freddie says, smiling.

"I look forward to it."

"Is there anything else you need?" Walker asks.

I shake my head and make a shooing motion with my hand. All of them but Jack leave.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I say, then emphasize the point by coughing loudly.

"Drink all of that," Jack orders, pointing at the mug.

"Aye, Captain."

Jack stares at me for a moment, then swoops down and kisses me on the cheek before departing with the others.

I touch my cheek lightly and grin. My plan is working so well.

I stand and move over to the window to watch out the tiny pothole for the lads to leave. It takes them at least an hour to get off the ship, and I duck as soon as I see them.

They're laughing at something, and Freddie's blushing something awful. I smile to myself, thinking how I would have never met them all if I hadn't run away from home in the first place.

Well, it's all in the past. I'll never see that wretched Snape or any members of my family again. I sigh softly and turn my attentions to the light-brown haired boy on the end.

Jack seems a little anxious, as if he's worried about something. I smile at that, too, because I know that it's _me_ he's fretting over.

Once they're out of sight, I quickly put on my midshipman's uniform, running my fingers through my slightly ratty hair. It'll need a washing soon...

I run out of my room and to the mess to grab a roll from a high pile, making sure to smack it against the wall on my way out. I don't really want to ingest any bugs today, thanks.

I slow my pace and walk off the ship and onto the pier with my head held high. If I'm going to be a midshipman, I'd better act like one.

The first thing I notice about Boloma is how many people there are outside wandering the streets. Peddlers are selling all sorts of things on their carts. Women with small children scurry around from vendor to vendor, looking for the lowest price. There are homeless men in the gutter, drunken sailors swaying around and tripping over themselves, whores beckoning them with their fluttering eyelashes and scant clothing. It's certainly a sight to see.

I look to find a dress shop, which isn't too difficult, seeing as there's one on practically every street corner. I spot a quaint but sophisticated-looking boutique and quickly walk over to it, slipping inside and making sure no one I know sees me as I enter it.

"May I help you?" A slightly stout woman asks, coming out another room to greet me. Her eyes go wide when she realizes that I'm a boy. "What's a strapping lad like yourself doing in a shop like this?" She asks, looking me up and down. "A gift for your mother, or sister, perhaps?"

"No, ma'am," I reply, and her eyebrows raise when she hears how high pitched my voice is. "I'm looking for a dress for myself, actually."

"But...but...you're a _lad_."

"Actually, I'm not. You may check if you'd like."

She looks me over, paying close attention to my chest, hips and face. Then she sighs and says, "I will never understand young ladies today. If I wore men's clothing and joined a ship's crew, my father would hang me in the gallows before the law ever got a hold of me."

I grin at her and say, "Hopefully I won't have to worry about that. For now, though, I'll need a dress."

"Pull your hair away from your face, dear," the woman says, and I do so. She peers closely into my face for a moment, then smiles. "You are a pretty one, lass. I believe I have just the thing..."

* * *

I step out of the dress shop, relishing in the feel of the dress against my stocking-clad legs. I feel like a _girl_ again.

So here's my plan:

First, I needed to get a dress and completely deck myself out.

Second, to track down the tavern where the boys said that everyone eats. It'd make sense for them to be there.

Third, dazzle the pants off of Jack, and somehow manage to get him to fall in love with me.

Alright, so the last part is a bit of a stretch. I mean, I would love for Jack to love me, but seeing me all dolled up in a dress won't secure that.

Then again, people _did_ say I was the prettiest girl in London, but I'm not conceited enough to believe such nonsense.

The dress that I bought is semi-formal, made of a gorgeous peach-colored fabric that "brings out the color in my cheeks". The collar is low and bodice is tight against my chest, making me look like I actually _have_ a chest. The skirt is, of course, floor length, and the whole thing is trimmed in a cream colored lace.

I also bought a nice pair of shoes and silks, and the woman was kind enough to do my hair. Really, it was barely long enough to pull back, but she secured it with about a hundred pins, so hopefully it'll stay.

I walk around the streets looking for the pub, but after a few minutes I admit defeat and ask a street vendor. "Sir, could you point me to the pub that has gained popularity among sailors?"

He turns around to face me and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. His face goes beet red and he stammers, "Down t-the street, two blocks, then a l-left."

"Thank you," I say, curtseying at him. I guess all of my training to be a lady will actually be put to good use. Seducing street vendors, how fun.

It takes me a little while to get to the pub, since I'm not used to walking around in women's shoes. I almost miss my pants and coat.

Almost.

I follow the man's advice and follow the streets for two blocks, then make a left onto a dingy street called Peddler's Lane. The name's perfect, as there are about thirty prostitutes lounging around. They give me dirty looks as I pass, as if I'd done something wrong just by walking down their street.

The pub is at the very end of the street. It's small with dingy windows and a faded sign, but the inside looks cozy and there appears to be a large abundance of customers seated around the tables.

I reach the door and take a deep breath before opening it. I mean, sure, I'm in girls' clothing, but what if someone recognizes me?

Why didn't I think of this _before_ I bought the dress and everything? Honestly, I can be so stupid sometimes.

_Oh, well,_ I think, building up my resolve. _I came all this way..._

I open the door and step inside. A few men at the bar look up from a game of cards and stare at me as if they've never seen a lass before. Really...

I turn my attention to the rest of the place, in hopes of finding my fellow midshipmen. A serving lady passes by and does a double take when she sees me.

"Can I help ya'?" She asks with an odd accent.

"Ah, yes," I say loudly above the noise of the bar. "I'm looking for a group of lads - five of them. They're all wearing midshipmen's uniforms..."

The woman points to a secluded corner behind me. "O'er there. Been here for about an hour."

"Thank you," I say, curtseying a bit. The lady harrumphs at me and continues on to the kitchens.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. _Okay, girl,_ I tell myself, _you can do this. He's gonna have the pants blown off a' him when he gets a load of you. _

I turn around and start walking towards the corner the woman pointed to, gaining the attention of the people at several tables. They hoot and holler as I walk past, but I ignore them. I'm not concerned about what they think. I'm here to impress one person only.

I weave through a few more tables before I lay eyes on the midshipmen's table. The scene that awaits me forces me to stop short.

All five of the boys are there. Walker's drinking a mug of ale and laughing with Robin and Willie. Freddie's busy eating, and looks up as a serving girl wanders past. He blushes when she smiles at him.

But that's not what has me rooted to the floor

Jack's sitting at the table with a mug in front of him, like Walker. The only difference is he's not paying any attention to it. Instead, he's completely focused on the girl in a very revealing dress who's perched on his lap.

I stare at them for a moment, thinking that I'm jumping to conclusions, that my mind is running away with itself. _There's nothing between them. She's probably just trying to seduce him like any old whore._

Or at least, that's what I tell myself, until the girl wraps her arms around Jack's neck, shoves her chest against his and _kisses him_ right on the lips.

Does Jack push her away? No. He kisses her back.

Here I am, standing in the middle of a pub on an unfamiliar continent with old men whistling at me as I watch the boy that I may be in love with snog another girl. After he told me how much he liked me. After he looked so concerned when I was "sick". I whip around so that I can stop staring.

I can't believe it. I can't believe how stupid I was to think that anyone could actually care for me. To actually care for someone else.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I just want to run. Run, run, run, far away and never see him again, never get on another ship, never have to deal with this kind of pain again.

I'm swearing off men forever. I never want to feel this way again.

And then it occurs to me - I'm the daughter of a bloody governor, for Christ's sake. I ran away from home, dressed up as a boy and joined a ship's crew. I beat a midshipman at a swordfight and was promoted. I've spent the last three weeks living with a bunch of men, and if anyone thinks that they can just walk all over me after all that, then they're _sadly_ mistaken.

I whirl back around to face them, my jaw set. Marching up to the table, I see Walker and the others look up and gape at me, a beautiful girl who's walking towards their table with all the fires of hell in her eyes.

They don't recognize me, but I couldn't care less if they did. Nothing really seems to matter anymore.

When I'm almost at their table, Jack looks up, and I can tell by the way that his jaw drops to the floor that he knows exactly who I am, what I've seen, and what I'm going to do.

I grab the arm of the hussy sitting on his lap and jerk her off with all the force I can muster. She screeches as she tumbles to the floor, but I can hardly hear it over the roar of rage in my ears.

Talk about a redhead's temper.

I smack Jack so hard across the face that he nearly falls out of his chair. My hand stings like hell, but it's nothing, _nothing_, compared to the pain in my heart.

"How _dare_ you?" I ask in a voice so forceful that Jack flinches. The others are all staring at me, but I don't care. "How _dare_ you pretend to care about me what-so-ever, then run off to that shameless hussy the minute I'm gone?"

"Lily, I-"

"Don't you 'Lily' me, Jack Wilson. You have no _idea_ who you're dealing with. You will pay, oh, you will pay." And with that I spin back around to leave.

"Lily, wait!" Jack says after I've taken a step. "Please, hear me out!"

I snap. I wind up my arm, turn around and punch him square in the nose. This time, he does fall over, crashing to the floor like a beautiful doll, blood squirting out of his (hopefully) broken nose.

"I will not 'hear you out'. You could have pushed her off you, but you didn't. I saw it with my own eyes. You no longer exist, Wilson. I have nothing more to say to you."

I turn back around and exit the pub amid the stares of almost everyone there. I smile at their incredibly bemused faces as I close the door behind me.

I will not let this get to me. Jack - Wilson - is a lying scoundrel who will never cross my mind again.

But it's never that easy, is it?

I go back to the dress shop and change back into my midshipman's uniform. I take the dress with me and stash it in a drawer when I get back to my room. Then I climb into bed and lay down under the warm blankets.

That's when the tears come.

* * *

A/N: Like I said, most important chapter #1. Longest ever, too.

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	14. Fighting Feelings

A/N: So, now that chapter 14 is here, I don't have to bother telling all of you off for not reading my Author's Notes and constantly asking when James is coming. Because honestly, that gets pretty annoying. And yes, I am having a bad week.

Writing this chapter was so hard! And yes, James will make an appearance, but it's not in the way you think. I know a lot of you will be like, "What the hell?" But hey, he does show up, so save your anger for something more creative than yelling at me.

To all of you who have been asking, yes, I've read Bloody Jack, though I actually read the third one first. It inspired this, partially. I also said this in chapter one's AN, but meh...

Thanks to all 68 of you who reviewed! All my love! As to the 1092 others who didn't review...well, I guess I can forgive you, because all of my negative energy went into making this, so I can't really yell at you...

Well, onto cahpter 14! (Yay, it's finally here!)

Disclaimer: Today we had a snow day (Actually, there's no snow, it's just -6 F) and I went to my friends house. We painted one of my ceiling tiles and wrote Harry Potter on it with gold shimmery stuff. It's pretty cool, but I'll be damned if JKR ever painted HP on one of _her_ ceiling tiles. Why would she? She _owns_ him.

* * *

D'you ever feel like the whole world's against you?

Because as I lie in bed pitying myself and thinking about how stupid I am for falling for a prat like Wilson, the Curse sets in.

It seems as if God is trying to tell me, "Girl, get the bloody hell of the Intrepid and go home." (Bloody hell is right.) But since when has Lily Evans paid attention to the will of God?

I'm a cross dresser for Christ's sake.

I have no idea how to deal with my girl-issues at the moment, nor do I feel like moving due to all the pain I feel.

Hey, I may have broken three of his ribs and his nose, but Jack - Wilson broke my heart. Add to that all of the horrid cramps I'm getting at the moment, and the two cases don't even compare.

It takes awhile for the boys to get back, and when they do, they all burst into my room, Freddie leading the pack, with Ja - _Wilson_ at the back, looking all shifty. I note with some sick satisfaction that there's bloody smeared all over his uniform and the beginning of two big shiners are appearing around his azure eyes.

"Guess what, Topher?" Freddie says loudly as I peer blearily at him from my bunk.

"What?" I ask, only to be polite. I already know what he's going to tell me.

"He hooked a lass," Robin responds for him.

"He's definitely a charmer," Walker says, whacking Freddie on the back.

"What's her name?" I ask, because talking to the boys as if nothing has happened seems to dull the ache in my heart.

"Emily Thomas," Freddie replies, a dreamy look working its way onto his face.

I manage a smile in his direction. "Was she a pretty one?"

"Beautiful! She had brown hair and bright blue eyes...I swear, once I finish serving my time here, I'm gonna marry 'er. She gave me 'er address to write 'er, and I already know what I'm gonna put in the letter." Freddie's ears go red as he says all of this and I almost want to cry at how adorable and innocent he is.

"Lucky bastard..." I say quietly, and Freddie grins.

"But that wasn't even the best of it," Robin says, smirking over at Wilson. "Jack here had quite an encounter with the female species today, as well."

"Oh?" I ask, seemingly interested. I really, really, don't want to live through this again...

"Yeah," Walker says. "First we got to the pub, right, and guess who was there? _Adeline_." He puts so much emphasis on the word that I feel it stab through my heart like a knife.

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering how Wilson had said that there was nothing going on between him and Adeline...

But thinking about it, he never really said anything about her, other than, "Don't be mad." So really, he could have loved her all along, and here I was carrying on as if he loved _me_.

I've never felt so stupid in my entire life.

"So Adeline comes up and just sits right on Jack's lap, and he gets all flustered, and she just kissed him, right on the mouth."

I feel tears burning in my eyes and blink hard to keep them down.

"Then - and this is the best part - this utterly _gorgeous_ girl marches right up to the two of them, shoves Adeline right off a' Jack's lap and smacks him right across the face. Then she started screaming at him about how he was a lying bastard. Then she goes to leave, right, and Jack says, 'Wait,' and she punches him and_ breaks his nose_."

"It was amazing," Walker says. "Best right hook I've ever seen. That girl was certainly something."

"Better than Adeline?" I ask, trying and failing a little to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"Much. This girl didn't flaunt her beauty like Adeline does. And she wasn't drunk."

This doesn't make me feel any better.

"She must've been, to care for that prick," I say, indicating over to Wilson. I'm only pretending to be joking.

"Yeah, really," Robin says, leaning on my bunk. "Adeline's a fair lass, but this girl...wow..."

"Hey guys, stop babbling about stupid things and leave him alone. He's _sick_, remember?"

They all look over at... Wilson, but I make sure to keep my eyes on the wall next to Freddie's ear. Looking at Jack hurts so bad...I can't even bring myself to use his last name.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Topher," Freddie says, blushing again.

"S'okay," I reply, closing my eyes and rolling onto my back. I want them to stay so badly. Being alone with Jack...I don't think I can do that. "You can stay..."

"No, we'd better let you rest," Walker says, patting my mattress.

"Get well soon," Willie says, and I want to hug him. How I wish I _could_ get well...but something tells me that I'll be feeling poorly for a long time.

The others murmur similar phrases as they file out of the room. It's not long before I'm alone with the last person I want to see in the world.

Jack takes a breath. "Lily-"

"Just save it," I say, staring at the ceiling. "I don't want to hear your excuses."

"You weren't there, you didn't know what happened. _She_ kissed _me_."

"And you were just so overcome by her immense strength that you couldn't push her off you?"

"I didn't know you were there," he says desperately. There's a pleading note in his voice.

"What does it matter whether I was there or not? You're obviously in love with this Adeline slut, so what difference does it make?"

"I do not love Adeline! She means nothing to me!" He says loudly, and, walking towards the bed, he grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. "I love you, Lily."

I stare into his eyes, so full of emotion that I want to cry out that I love him too. But I don't. I know what I saw. If he really loved me, he would've never let Adeline near him.

Keeping my gaze cold, I reply, "Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? You lied to me, _Wilson_, and I refuse to have anything to do with liars."

Jack lets go of my arm, flinching and stepping back like I've smacked him again. He looks at me for a long time, and I steadily return his gaze. Then he swallows, turns on his heel, and leaves me alone in the room.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, but that doesn't stop the tears from finally leaking out of the corners.

I know that what I did was right. Jack did betray me. He deserved what he got. I'm too good for him, and I will get over him. I will love him no longer.

I am officially swearing off all men. I don't need this kind of mess in my life, thank you.

I just hope I can get over this one in particular...

* * *

A thunderous noise like a cannon-fire wakes me up with a jolt. The ship rocks violently beneath me as I sit quickly up in my bed.

There's a frantic knocking on the door and Freddie tumbles into the room as another tremor rocks the boat.

"Topher, Jack!" He pants as he hoists himself up off the floor. "We're - we're under attack! They're - they're..._pirates_. There's got to be a _hundred_ of 'em...you've got to come up and help!" He's anxious and nervous, and I know that if asked, he wouldn't hesitate to say how scared he is.

So it _was_ a cannon, then...

The ship rocks again and Freddie clutches the bunk beds for support. "We've got to hurry!"

"O - okay," I say, and hoist myself down just as another wave of cannon fire hits us. I land on my knees and painfully pull myself up. Wilson detangles himself from his covers and the two of us change out of our night clothes as quickly as possible.

"Freddie," Wilson says suddenly, turning to the red-haired boy behind us. "Go on, they need you more than we do."

Freddie takes a deep breath and looks at the two of us for a long moment. I want to reach out to him, to embrace him, but I can't. I'm supposed to be a man, and so is he. So instead, I say, "God's speed..."

Freddie turns his nearly frantic eyes at me and manages a weak smile and a nod before turning on his heal and leaving the room. I watch his back with an odd feeling of premonition.

Wilson and I finish getting dressed in silence. As I turn to leave the room, however, he grabs my wrist and looks me directly in the eyes. "I love you, Lily Evans, no matter how much you hate me." And with that he leaves the room.

I stand there, staring at the wall. _What the hell? What right does he have to just go all mushy on me at a time like this? _I think, my hand coming to rest over my heart.

God, why does he have to do that? I was ready to spend the next few years of my life hating all mankind, then he goes and says something sappy and I lose it.

Maybe...do I really _hate_ him...?

It takes another blow from a cannon to make me remember what I'm supposed to be doing. I quickly run out of the room, grabbing my sword in the process. I rush up the stairwell and stop dead at the top.

It's raining, hard, and the entire deck is riddled with bodies, some still alive despite swords sticking out of their bodies at odd angles. Most are dead. The rest of the men are battling with swords and guns while the ships pepper each other with cannon balls. The deck is covered in smoke and slick with blood and rain water.

The horror of what I'm about to do runs me down like a horse-drawn carriage. I'm about to go into that, to fight these men, and maybe kill them. _I may die here tonight_. The thought makes vomit rise in my throat.

I make to turn around, but before I can, the sight of Willie standing over a dead body, holding a smoking pistol assaults my eyes. He looks mortified at the person whose life he just took. I watch as his face crumples and tears leak out of his eyes. Then I see a man come up behind him with his sword raised.

It doesn't take long for me to leap into action. My sword meets the pirates high above Willie's head. "Move!" I scream at the lad, glaring ferociously into the sword-wielder's eyes. The boy doesn't need to be told twice.

I have to use all of my fencing skills to keep up with the pirate. All the while, I picture what this man was about to do to Willie, a child, and how I _must_ defeat him.

After a short while, an opportunity arises. The pirate gets tired and lets his guard down his left side. I heave my sword at him and manage to slash his side. It's not deep, but blood pours from the wound like the rain from the sky. I kick him in the gut and the impact of his skull on the deck knocks him out, but I don't care whether he's alive or not. Instead, I search the deck for someone else.

I spot him not too far from where I'm standing. He's battling with swords, just as I was, only he's hanging from the rigging like a monkey, effectively placing himself out of range from any pirates that come along.

Another man runs to me with his sword held high, but I met his attack with a shower of blue sparks. He's good, far better than the other man I fought. As we attempt to kill one another, I keep one eye on the lad on the rigging, making sure that he's still alive.

I pay for my lack of attention in the fight. The pirate's sword nicks my gut, and a roaring pain fills my body for a moment. My attacker grins evilly, pushes me over onto the deck and raised his sword high above his head to deliver a final blow. A terror like I've never known fills my soul as I close my eyes and prepare to die...

But instead, a gunshot goes off and the pirate's body slumps to the ground next to mine. I look up and see Willie, once again holding a smoking gun, only this time, his face is hard.

"Thank you," I say, getting to my feet. My stomach feels like it's on fire, but I attempt to ignore it.

Willie hugs me round the middle, then walks off quickly, bracing himself for the next man he'll kill.

I swing around and look back at the rigging, but he's no longer up there. Instead, he's duking it out with a pirate on deck, showing off his well developed skills. His cockiness might not be good while practicing against the likes of me, but it scares his opponent into making clumsy errors and faltering in the end. Jack stabs him right through the middle, and I feel once again like I'm going to vomit.

There's a commotion near one of the rails, and a tall, dark-haired man in elegant attire steps aboard the Intrepid. The pirates all seem to look to him for instructions, but whether he gives any, I don't know. He looks around and sees Wilson, wrenching his sword out of the man he just killed.

The man starts to walk forward, then reaches inside his cloak and pulls out a pistol. He raises it and takes aim.

There's a gunshot, and the bullet whizzes through the air. I watch in slow motion as Jack falls to the deck and doesn't get up.

"Jack!" I shriek, running over to him. I trip on the way to his side, and looking down, see that it's the body of Mr. Davies. My eyes widen as I see a bullet hole in his head.

I pick myself up hastily and rush to Jack's side. "Jack," I say, tears pouring endlessly out of my eyes. "Jack, wake up, dammit, wake up!"

He remains still, looking like a doll that a little child dropped. A broken doll.

"No," I sob. "No!" I lay my head on his chest, which is sticky with warm blood. "Jack, please..._please_...I...I _love_ you..."

But Jack doesn't move. He's dead.

I grip his shirt and let out another sob. Suddenly there's a sharp pain in my head.

Then the world goes black.

* * *

A/N: ...You may want to pick your jaw up off the floor now. Did you see that coming? Honestly?

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	15. Girlish Grievings

A/N: ...Please don't kill me. I've been working on this FOREVER.

I have officially joined the Because I've Read Twilight I Now Have Unrealistic Expectations in Men Club. So there really is no guy that could really turn me on, unless of course he's a really hot vampire. (I just used really 3 times in one sentence.) Then he's alright. And stop staring at me like that. You all knew I was a freak.

On a more fic-related note, I've been getting a lot of frequently-asked questions. So here are my replies:

**Did James kill Jack? **Well, I did say that you wouldn't like James in the beginning, so you can make your own conclusion on that one.

**Is Jack dead?** …Do people who get shot in the heart usually live?

**Did you know about the error in chapter 10, where Lily calls herself 'Evans'? **Yes, and thanks to everyone who pointed that out, but I was suddenly struck by the realization that itisn't really an error...my brain works in wonderful ways and I don't even realize it.

**Does the whole crew now know that Lily's a girl because of the whole "I love you" thing? **Ok, imagine you're at school with your friends at your locker, struggling to get your books out and still be on time. You're also ranting loudly about your evil Algebra teacher, who gave you 70 problems on a weekend. You:

A) Focus on getting your books out

B) Focus on your anger at your teacher

C) Focus on not being late

D) Focus on the couple snogging 3 lockers down

If you said D, you have no life. Lily was in the middle of a battle scene. There were cannons and guns going off all around, and everyone was concentrating on not dying while killing the guy in front of them. People are screaming and yelling, and gunfire's _loud_, people. I don't really think the crew had time to stop what they were doing and think, "Oi, lookit that, Topher's saying 'e loves Jack!" No.

Moving on...

Ok, so this chapter is a really bad filler. I rewrote it twice, and I couldn't make it anti-fillerish, so I just stuck with this draft. I'm sorry, but after the last chapter, you knew it was bound to happen!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I once again fail as an author for not putting all of your names up here, but I figured you've waited long enough.

Well, onto chapter 15!

Disclaimer: I've been listening to the Spamalot soundtrack a lot recently, which is totally awesome, by the way, and I've formulated the idea that disclaimers are totally cliched in all fics. Think about it. So yes, no real disclainmer for today, but I will leave you with this tidbit of information:

Rett opy r rahfor ohtu al nigi roeht t onm ai.

* * *

"You're...you're a...girl?"

This is the first thing I hear as I come to. I gasp, open my eyes, and sit up quickly.

A fire-like pain roars through my abdomen and I wince and cry out, wrapping my arms around my middle. I feel bare skin against my arms and realize that I'm not wearing a shirt.

This brings me back to reality and the fact that someone just found out my real gender. I open my eyes as a short, unknown someone hurries forward and pushes me back onto the bed. "Don't - you'll start bleeding again."

I sigh in relief upon realizing it's a girl, then I moan again, because even just sighing hurts.

"Please - don't move. You'll rip your stitches," the girl says, sitting down in a chair next to my bed and looking at me with enormous brown eyes. She seems to be only a few years older than I, and judging by her speech, she is of a similar background. Her hair is chocolaty-brown and tied in a knot at her nape, allowing her rosy complexion to show. Her clothing would be considered simple and ordinary, if not for the blood stains all over her bodice.

"I - I do not understand...how - how did you come to be on that ship?" She asks, looking a bit frantic. She has good reason to be - it's not everyday you find out that you're stitching up a girl from the British Royal Navy.

"I - agh," I say as she pulls my arms away from my stomach wound. "I'm a midshipman. I - nnnngh...I ran away from home."

"You're a midshipman?"

"That's what I said, was it not?"

"Yes, but why would you join a ship's crew? It's so dangerous!"

"I - I just...wanted to get away..."

The girl looks at me from where she stands by my bed. "You're so brave. I'd never be able to..." she trails off and reaches over to rummage through a bag of sorts on the floor.

"Where...where am I?" I ask, realizing that I'm in an unfamiliar room. It's made of wood, similar to the Intrepid, but unlike the naval ship, it has a variety of fine paintings on the walls that I know to be originals by famous artists.

See, being a rich girl can come in handy at times.

"You're onboard the Masked Marauder."

"But - how did I get here?"

She stops rummaging and looks at me, her eyes wide. "You...don't remember?"

Staring into her big brown orbs, I see visions, memories, flash before my eyes. Rain, lightning. Blood everywhere. Gunshots. The clinking of swords. Jack's lifeless eyes.

I blink and feel hot tears in my own eyes. I couldn't stop them from falling even if I wanted to.

"Miss?" The girl asks, standing and taking my hand. "Are you alright?"

I shake my head. "Jack - he's...he's..."

She peers at me with sincere concern, squeezing my fingers in her own. "It will be okay, Miss."

"No," I say, or rather, croak. "I - I _loved_ him..."

"Oh..." The girl says quietly, looking like she herself might cry. "I...I'm so sorry, Miss."

I say nothing. I can't. The image of Jack lying there is just...I can hardly stand the finality of the scene. It's as if part of me was torn away from my being in that instant.

Several tears leak out of my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away with my arm. My stitches protest against my stretching skin, but I ignore it as best I can.

The girl reaches back into her bag and pulls out a length of dressings not unlike those my chest was wrapped up in moments before. She eases me into a sitting position and works the dressings around my stitches before speaking.

"I...asked some of the others from your ship about you. They said you were an expert swordsman...or woman, I suppose..."

Through my sadness, I let out a harsh chuckle. "If I were so spectacular, I wouldn't be lying in this bed with string holding my innards together, now would I?"

"You must truly be amazing. You killed Hodgens. He was one of our best swordsmen."

"Yes, well...wait a moment. One of _your_ best swordsmen?" I ask, becoming instantly hostile and pulling away from her slightly. "What d'you mean, one of _your's_? Don't - don't tell me that this ship...that we're on the..."

"The ship that attacked your's, yes," the girl replies, looking down and pulling her hands away. She twists them around in her lap and says, "You, my dear, are onboard a pirate ship."

* * *

I stare at the girl in shock while my mouth works up the ability to speak. "If we're on a pirate ship, why am I alive? And who _are_ you, even? A _wench_?" 

The girl sighs and stands, walking over to a large bay window on the wall opposite me. "My name is Lottie Clarke, and no, I am not a wench. My husband - he was a crew member onboard here - was killed by a man who used to sail aboard naval ships. After his death, my cousin let me stay aboard because he felt that it was his fault that my beloved Jacob died. He swore to me that he'd find his murderer and kill him.

"Ever since, we've been going from ship to ship, always looking for the same man, but we've yet to find him. James, my cousin, turned cold when Jacob died. He used to spare the innocent lives, but now..." She turns back to face me. "You're alive because your ship put up a greater fight than any we've seen in a long while. So many are gone now...we wouldn't have been able to make it far with the men we had left, so we brought all those still alive onboard. And so, here you are."

"So you're making excuses for the murders your cousin committed?" I ask ferociously, glaring at her.

"Not at all," she cries, and I see tears forming in her big brown eyes. "I can't stand all this death...I may be able to nurse all these men back to health, but I will never be able to look at James again without seeing men with no arms, no legs, screaming like the devil himself were after him. Today I had to stuff a man's intestines back into him. I will never forget..." she trails off, clutching a hand to her mouth. She won't be sick, however - she has the same way about her that the old doctor I once knew had.

"You seem very experienced with medicine for someone as young as you," I comment, a tad bit nastily.

"I'm not quite as young as you think. I'm twenty two," the girl named Lottie replies, blinking to keep her own tears at bay. "And yes, my...my grandfather was an experienced doctor."

"Ah," I reply, looking away. Twenty-two is by no means old, but she certainly isn't as young as she looks.

"Would you...if I may ask, what is your name?" She asks timidly, swaying back and forth on her feet.

"Topher Thompson."

"I...I meant your real name."

"Lily...Thompson." I nearly told her my _real_ name, which could have been catastrophic. I don't particularly feel up to being used for ransom at the moment.

"Nice to meet you," she replies, smiling.

"Pleasure," I say back, lying down again. My stomach twinges, but I ignore it. My temple throbs with a budding headache, but whether from my wound, confusion, or exhaustion, I have no idea.

Lottie sighs and sits down once again in the chair next to my bed. "Now that the formalities are over, we must think of a way to hide you from the rest of the crew."

"There'll be no need for that. I have every intention of returning to the Intrepid," I reply shortly, looking away.

"I...I'm afraid you misunderstand," Lottie says, also looking away. "Your ship - the Intrepid - is now lying on the bottom of the ocean."

I turn my head quickly towards her, nearly cricking my neck. "_What!?_"

"Well, after you were attacked, we got all the valuables out and...and we sunk her."

"You must be joking," I say, my eyes pleading. Everything I owned was on that ship - my picture of my father, my grandfather's watch, my golden locket. Even my clothing.

Lottie looks me in the eyes. "I'm sorry," she replies, and I can tell that she means it. "I would never have chosen it to be this way, but I am not the captain. I'm afraid you'll have to take it up with him."

"Oh, believe me, I intend to," I say viciously, anger coursing through me. Had it not been for this pathetic excuse for a captain...

I don't even want to think about it.

Loud footsteps thunder down the hall outside the little room, and Lottie stands up quickly. "That'd be James. Quick, roll over. He's the _last_ person we need finding you out," she mutters frantically.

I do as she commands, feeling an intensified pain in me abdomen. I nearly cry out, but hold it in as a knock sounds on the door.

"Come - come in!" Lottie calls, her voice shaking.

The door opens, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

"How does it look?" A man's voice asks Lottie, who has moved away from my bed.

The brown-haired girl sighs, and I chance opening one eye to see what is going on.

Lottie looks down at her hands as she says, "We've lost many, James. Half of our crew is injured, and most of the men from the naval ship are either badly wounded or..."

The man sighs too, and Lottie subtly steps between him and my bed, shielding me from his immediate view. "I was afraid of that," he says, running a hand through his dark-colored hair. "How many do of them you think will live?"

"It's difficult to say. Perhaps forty of ours, and thirty of the others."

"Hm..." The man called James says. "What's the matter with him?" He asks, indicating over to me. I freeze and squeeze my eyes shut, praying to God that he didn't notice me eavesdropping.

"Oh, um, him?" Lottie squeaks, and I can bet her hands are frantically clutching at her skirt. "He - he got cut in the stomach. I was just...bandaging him up when you came in."

I can't tell because of his silence, but I can just bet that the man is giving her a very odd look. "What's the matter, Lottie? D'you fancy this boy or something?"

"What? F-fancy him? Where ever would you get an idea like that?"

The man lets out a breath of laughter, then wanders lazily over to my bed. He pulls my deep red locks away from my face and examines me for a moment. Not only do I lay stock-still and scarcely breathe, but a strange shiver runs up my spine as his fingers touch my skin. It's so odd; I've never felt anything like it.

Hm...

"I wouldn't blame you," James says, pulling away from me and standing up. "He's a very pretty one. Almost like a lass, judging by his face."

"Ah, yes," Lottie manages, and it's a wonder James doesn't roll me over and figure out what she's hiding. I've seen better actresses in the streets of London, and most of them are beggars. "But don't underestimate him, James. This is the one that killed Hodgens."

"What? This scrawny thing? It would take a much bigger force to take the life from Hodgens."

"You may ask him when he wakes up, if you'd like."

James says nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me, searing through the bed sheets like fire shooting from his eyes.

"Well, I shan't keep you from your work any longer," he says to Lottie, removing his gaze from me.

"Oh! Wait, James!" Lottie exclaims as if coming to a sudden conclusion.

"What is it?"

"Well," Lottie says, seemingly losing her courage. "Be...before he lost consciousness, this boy told me that he was good with medicine, and that his father taught him to use surgical instruments. I believe he'd be of great help to me. May...may I take him on as an assistant?"

James pauses before answering, and I chance a glance in their direction.

"I see what this is," he replies, and I quickly shut my eyes again fearfully. "Lottie, you are far too kindhearted to be on a ship full of pirates such as these. You want to make sure that nothing...bad happens to this boy, because of his looks, don't you?"

"Oh...yes, that's right," Lottie replies, and she seems about as relieved as I am that this James isn't nearly as privy as he likes to believe.

"Hm...I suppose you may have him for an assistant. However," his tone grows stronger and less kind. "He will sleep in the closet. And you will tell me if he tries something...improper with you."

"Of course, James. Thank you."

And with that, James leaves and Lottie prances over to my bed. "Did you hear all that?" She whispers as I open my eyes. "This way, you won't be attacked by any of the men below decks. I'll finally have another lass to speak to! Oh, you have no idea how lonely it gets here sometimes."

I let her carry on like this for a few moments until she runs out of steam. "Thank you," I say quietly, when I finally get the chance.

She looks down at me. "You shouldn't be thanking me. It is partially my fault you're here in the first place."

"No, I mean...I insulted you and your ship, yet you were kind to me anyways. Thank you." I can hardly meet her eyes as I say this. It's so hard being personal with someone, considering that all the people I had relationships with before either disowned me or died.

Not a very good track record, eh?

* * *

A/N: Yes, so like I said, a filler. Sorry.

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	16. Hostily Handsome

A/N: ...Eh heh heh heh...Please don't kill me...Seriously, my computer crashed due to idiocy of a certain...IDIOT...won't name names, oh evil stepfather...

So I wrote all over an old pair of my jeans. They have huge holes in the knees and everything. I love them, especially because all my friends went all out on decorating them.

A lot of people wrote to me commenting about the Unrealistic Expectations club. If you'd like to be a part of our little pow wow here, simply write:

**Offical Member of the Because I Read Twilight I Now Have Unrealistic Expectations in Men Club**

**Damn You, Edward Cullen!**

in your profile, and you're all set. Oh, and tell me if you're joining, so I can keep track somehow.

Also, I need someone who can speak French _fluently_ to translate some future parts in this story for me. So if there's anyone out there, please contact me!

Guess what? My stepdad decided that we really needed to get an alarm system. He installed cameras on my house and everything. I'm not even kidding. People will think we're hiding Osama Bin Lauden or something.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, all 70 of you! I would give you cookies or sometihng, but I don't think they'd taste too good through a computer screen.

Well, onto chapter 16! (Wow, never thought I'd be saying _that_.)

Disclaimer: So I just found out that the 5th movie is gonna be the shortest out of all of them. How you can do that with an 870 page book is beyond me. If I were JKR, I would NOT have let that happen.

* * *

It's been several days since I first found myself aboard the Masked Marauder, and I still have yet to get used to not being awoken in the middle of the night by Jack to go out on our watch. I am awaken, but it is by Lottie, begging me to calm down from the nightmares that I've been getting recently. 

Today I managed not to wake up screaming, which was a relief, because I am now well rested and ready for the day.

I know, amazing.

Lottie is sewing something by the bay window in the room that I've been holed up in for the past few days. When she sees me sit up, she grins, puts down her needlework and prances over to my bed.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" She says exuberantly. I wonder for a moment how anyone could have so much energy this early in the day.

"Morning, Lottie," I reply with a yawn. I stretch and notice for a moment that my torso no longer hurts when I do so.

"How're you feeling?" Lottie asks, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Quite well, actually," I say, somewhat surprised. This is the first time that I've said I'm well and actually meant it. At least, I mean _physically_.

"Wonderful! Today I think we may be able to take the bandages off...then you can go out on deck," Lottie exclaims with a smile.

"Really?" I ask, turning to look out the window. The curtains have been pushed back and I can see the sky. It's sunny, clear, and very, very blue. It's the first beautiful day I've seen since I've been here. Almost _too_ beautiful...

"Yes. James wants everyone up on top deck today as it is. He wants to look over the...new men." Lottie looks away as she finishes her sentence, as if remembering how exactly I came to be here.

"Is that so..." I reply, my happy demeanor quickly vanishing. I forgot - I'm on a pirate ship. I probably won't have much time to enjoy the day ever again.

"Don't worry, Lily, no one will find out your secret. I won't let them." Lottie looks me straight on as she says this, as if she thinks I can't trust her.

"I believe you, Lottie," I reply, not looking at her. "It's just that...I don't think I'll ever be able to really get over this, you know? I mean...Jack's dead. The love of my life is _dead_, Lottie, and someone on this ship killed him. I can't merely sit here and do nothing to avenge him."

"What will you do if you find out who it was?" She asks timidly. I don't really blame her. I can be scary when I'm dedicated to a cause.

I look directly at her. "I'll kill him."

Lottie lets out a little gasp and averts her eyes as if I'd said something dirty or improper. "I can't say I blame you, really. I wanted to kill the men who murdered my husband too, at first."

I look down, remembering that Lottie too had heartbreak in her past. "At first?"

"Mm," she says, nodding. "I was so sad, angry, and spiteful. I kept wondering why on earth someone would want to kill Jacob. But then, as time went on, I realized that even though Jacob had died, I had not. I am still alive, and despite all of the hardships I face in my daily life, I'm _glad_ to be alive." She looks up at me. "Perhaps in time, you too will be thankful that you are still alive, Lily."

I sigh and look out the window. "Perhaps..." I reply, because no matter how much I try, I will never have Lottie's optimism.

"Oh, what are we doing fretting about the past? Come on, we must get you dressed." Lottie stands up and pulls on my arms until I concede to get out of bed. "Here, let me change your dressings." She carefully snips off all of the bandages wrapped around my torso and proceeds to rewrap my chest, effectively hiding my bosom.

"Thank you," I say, smiling warmly at her. It's nice to have someone here to help me. I never realized before how alone I was on the Intrepid. Of course, thinking of the Intrepid sets my heart of swimming in a sea of misery.

"There, all set," she says, pinning the dressings in place. I'm as flat as I was when I first ran away, standing in the Pig and the Pardoner. It seems like it was ages ago...

"Alright, put these on," Lottie says, handing me a bundle of clean clothes.

"What happened to my old clothes?" I ask, concern for my midshipman's uniform taking over. It may be silly, but I was proud of my uniform and of the status, however short it lasted.

"They...well, they were completely soaked in blood. I couldn't get all of it out, and believe me, I washed it at least seven times. They're still in this room somewhere, but I'm afraid they're not fit to wear."

"That's okay," I reply, pulling on the pants she gave me and hoisting the shirt on over my head. "At least they're still here..."

Lottie sighs quietly. "Lily, I...I know that this has been...hard for you...and I know that it's partially my fault you're here in the first place. And I...I'm sorry."

I have to shut my eyes to stop from crying at her words. _Stop it, girl_, I think. _You've got to pull yourself together. You're going back out onto a ship. Stop letting your emotions get the better of you._

"You didn't tell your cousin to attack my ship. Thank you, though, for apologizing."

Lottie smiles sadly. "Well, you're all set. Be careful out there, okay?"

I look at her and smile. "You forget that I've been doing this for some time now. I'll be fine." And with that, I grasp the door handle and leave the little room behind me.

* * *

It's either extreme nostalgia, or the sun really _is_ duller when I'm sad, because for once, I'm not blinded by it. 

I step out onto the strange deck, greeted by sights so familiar yet so foreign that I nearly turn back into the room and slam the door.

I'm really _not_ ready for this after all.

But, being the stubborn, determined girl that I am, I take a deep breath and hold my chin up high as I exit my former holding place.

There are some obvious differences between this ship and the Intrepid. First off, this one's a lot smaller. There's no study room, nor as many masts. This ship, the Masked Marauder, only has two, so it obviously can't hold as many people. This apparently makes it less grand.

With that in mind, I turn my head from side to side to look at the crew. They're very different from the men onboard the Intrepid. The men here seem to possess some sort of...wild quality, as if they would be ready to attack you at any moment. It seems so strange to see different men scrubbing the deck, climbing the rigging, standing as lookout.

It feels almost as if I'm in a dream where I'm not on my ship, but I know that it _is_ my ship...though I very much doubt that I will ever call this hunk of wood 'my ship'.

"Topher!" I hear someone shriek from behind me, and I whirl around.

Willie is running towards me, a look of glee on his boyish face. I grin despite my previous musings.

The little redhead is trailed by Robin, who whacks me on the back as soon as he gets within reaching distance. "I see you're well, then," he says, a smile upon his handsome face.

"Never better," I say offhandedly, in no way indicating that I'm completely overjoyed that they're alive.

_Alive..._

"Wait, where're Freddie and Walker?" I ask, looking around as if I expected them to jump out at me from behind a barrel or something.

Instead of answering, Robin turns his head and looks down at the ground. Willie sniffs and hugs himself. Then it dawns on me.

"You mean they're...they're...oh God..." I cover my mouth with both my hands as I come to terms with the fact that two of the people I'd come to see as, well, brothers, are dead. Add that to...Jack...and it looks like I'm some sort of bad omen. You know, the one about women on ships?

"Robert was shot..." Robin says, still not looking at me.

"And Freddie fell overboard," Willie continues in a tiny whisper of a voice.

"But hey," Robin says, faking a cheery tone that is only given away by a slight tremor in his last syllable, "At least we're alive. At least _you're_ alive."

"Jack could be too," Willie says, also in a half cheerful voice. "We haven't heard anything about him, so he may be here somewhere..."

I take a deep, shaky breath. This time it is I who won't look at them. "Jack..." I somehow manage to choke out, "He's...he's not here."

"How do you know?" Robin asks, as if begging me to yell _just kidding_ at the top of my lungs.

"Did you see him?" Willie questions frantically.

I nod, fearing that if I open my mouth to speak, all of the miserable, lonely, devastating thoughts and memories will come spilling out, and I won't be able to stop it.

I cannot let that happen. I must be in charge of myself. I promised myself that, and I will see it through until my dying day.

"H-how...?"

I finally look up at Willie. Taking another deep breath, this one to steady myself, I reply, "He was shot. Right here." I point to Willie's heart as I say this. My voice somehow manages to become expressionless.

Willie and Robin both unconsciously place their hands over their hearts. "Did you see it?" The latter asks, seemingly ashamed of asking such a morbid question.

"Yes," I say, looking up at him.

I had never really acknowledged the fact that Robin and Willie are younger than me, perhaps because Robin is much taller and Willie isn't far behind. But they seem so small now that they've learned that another one of their comrades is gone forever. It makes my heart ache to be the one to have to tell them.

I want to comfort them, to take them in my arms and tell them that everything will be okay, like a mother would. But I can't. One of my reasons is that I cannot act like a girl, no matter how much I'd like to. I cannot give myself away.

My other reason is because everything will not be okay. Not only are three of their almost brothers dead, but we are currently on a _pirate ship_, and for some reason, I cannot think of a way that this could all turn out alright.

I open my mouth to say something to the two of them, but my words are drowned out by a loud yell from the front of the ship. The voice calls, "All men gather round, and meet your new captain."

The two look at me with fear in their eyes, as if pleading with me to get them away from this place. But I hoist myself up to my full height and say, "C'mon, let's get a look at the bastard who did this." With them trailing me, I push my way to the front of the crowd.

Once I get there, I stop short, causing both Robin and Willie to bump into my back. I hardly even feel it.

There are four men in the front of the ship. The first, whom I assume was the one yelling at us earlier, is short and stout, with dirty blonde hair and watery blue eyes. He's short, shorter than me, even, and is dressed rather plainly for someone on a prospering pirate ship.

The second is tall and lean, with long light brown hair that he has tied into tail at the base of his neck. He has warm grey eyes and a small smile on his face, as if someone just handed him the deed to a rather large amount of land. His clothing, unlike the man's in front of him, are made of fine material that is brown in color, his jacket opened to reveal a simple white linen shirt, open at the collar.

The third is also tall, but more muscular than lean. He too has long hair that is tied in the back, but his is black as coal. His eyes are a deep, deep blue, almost like the water in the ocean surrounding us. His clothing is made of a rich blue material that compliments his eyes. He leans over to whisper something to the brown-haired man as he gazes over the men. Both of them, I notice, are rather good looking.

But it was the last one that made me stop in my tracks.

He is by far the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life. Even Jack, God rest his soul, pales in comparison. He is tall, of similar height to the others, and has hair the color of an Onyx ring I once owned. His eyes are a deep hazel, and shining in either humor or mischief, almost like a little boy. They are beautiful eyes, though slightly hidden behind a pair of sliver-framed glasses, not unlike the ones Mr. Fuller wore. His skin is slightly tanned, most likely from many years worth of sea going. He is wearing a maroon colored jacket, which spreads out evenly over his apparently muscular arms.

Looking at him seems to make my pulse quicken, because before I know it, I'm breathing heavily with my hand placed over my heart.

"Topher? What's wrong?" Willie asks, worried.

"N - nothing," I reply, shaking myself. This is no time to act like a girl. I need to be strong for when the captain emerges. I tear my eyes away from the man, and as soon as I do, the little man calls out again.

"Oi, bastards, 'ere's Cap'n Potter!" As the words fly out of his mouth, the handsome man steps forward.

_Oh my God_, my brain screams at me. _I've been ogling the Captain!_ The infamous James, Lottie's _noble_ cousin. This is the same captain that ordered the Intrepid to be attacked. The very man that sentenced Walker and Freddie - and Jack - to death.

A loathing the likes of which I've never felt comes over me, and I have to fight to keep from running up to him and wringing his neck.

I decide here and now that will not let his good looks affect me. I am Lily Evans, otherwise known as Topher Thompson, and I will not be bested by a good looking man in really, really tight breeches.

The fact that I'm even looking at his breeches only proves this theory.

God, I have so much work to do.

* * *

A/N: ...Eh heh heh. Please don't kill me. More Lily/James interactiong in the next chapter, which I swear will not take me nearly so long to get up. 

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	17. Oh Captain, My Captain

A/N: So, who else saw OotP on opening day and was immediately like, "Wait a second, there was no one with them at the playground?" 'Cuz I totally was. Not a horrible movie, but the sequence was off and the beginning was really choppy. I loved the ending, though, except for Sirius's death. Not dramatic enough. And did you listen to the musical score? All that swooping and crescendos...Ok, so yes, I'm a total band geek. Tell me something I don't know.

And then there's Deathly Hallows. -Sighs- This book was just so good. I mean, even as you were reading about everyone dying, you couldn't help but think, "God, I love this book." I dunno, I didn't cry when I read it, maybe because I was in shock.

Oh, and another great book? Eclipse, obviously. Oh my God, if I hadn't pledged my undying love to Edward before this, I definately would have done so while reading this book. But no spoilers, I promise.

This is my _last year in band_. For those of you not in marching band, you'd never understand, but the band is like a family. You work your ass off together through all the sweat (it was ungodly hot), blood (at least 4 people went to the hospital), and tears (it's just so sad and stressful, because we want this to be our best year ever). I don't think people realize how hard it is to play music and get to an exact spot on a field in front of hundreds of people.

So I had Friggin' in the Riggin' stuck in my head as I wrote this. That and Bohemian Rhapsody. So if it's crazy and odd, that's why.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed...even to those of you who seem to think I have nothing better to do than to slave over this...oops, did I say that out loud? Anyway, thanks.

Well, onto chapter 17!

Disclaimer: People, please. Come on now. You all know I don't own this.

* * *

The captain surveys us over his spectacles like a herd of cattle he's considering for slaughter. I can feel Willie shaking beside me. I reach out and grab his arm, squeezing it slightly to show that there's someone there with him, that he's not alone. 

The captain, who I suppose I shall call Captain Potter, seeing as how that's his name, opens his mouth to speak. "I'm assuming that you all found my ship quite enjoyable?"

I blink and feel the crowd stir uneasily around me. The way he spoke was not mocking, belittling, or cruel as I would have expected. Instead his tone sounds...almost joking. Like a mischievous little child.

The crowd is overrun by a mutual unease at his playful tone, and no one speaks. "I'll take that as a no, shall I?" He says, his trifling tone still in place. His magnificent eyes scan over the anxious crowd, and while his velvety voice may be pleasant, the glint in his eyes is not. He pauses his scrutiny on Robin and Willie, both of whom are looking up at him in defiant terror. The captain smirks and narrows his eyes slightly, and then his gaze continues onto me.

A bizarre something flickers through his eyes, something that reminds me far too much of another certain boy that once resided on a ship. _Don't go there, Lily_, I tell myself, hating the feeling of grief that washed over me. I narrow my eyes up at the captain and raise my chin slightly, my hand still clutching Willie's arm protectively. I know how this must look to Potter - a short, skinny redhead with a pretty face, looking up at a man with blatant defiance while clutching the shirt a young boy protectively.

I look like a mother hen, which under any other circumstances wouldn't've bothered me, but now, it feel almost foolish, reckless to be so blatantly feminine under that scrutinizing gaze.

Captain Potter stares at me for another moment, then lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head, his eyes closed. "I can see," he says, looking up at the rest of the men, "That you are a lowly, albeit strong lot. Therefore, I will expect all of you to commence work on my ship immediately. Anyone who does not feel up to the task may take it up with Mr. Pettigrew here." He indicates lazily to the man who had announced his arrival earlier. "Mr. Pettigrew" leers sinisterly at us, then nods to the man behind him, who happens to be as tall as a mountain and about as thick.

The message is this: If you have a problem with whatever the hell we put you through, you'll be crushed by _that_.

No one says a word of protest, as expected. Everyone here, myself included, would rather jump overboard and drown in the ocean than be pulled apart by the monster of a man standing behind Mr. Pettigrew.

The captain's eyes scan the ship once more, as if counting the number of prisoners he had taken on. He indicates to the crowd, and the light-haired man on his left steps forward.

"I will say this once and only once," he declares. His voice is hardly more than a whisper, yet the words ring out like a gong on the silent ship. "You have found yourself aboard a pirate ship, one which much of the world would love to see sink to the bottom of the ocean. We have pillaged, plundered, and killed the occupants of countless towns, and we will not hesitate to order the slaughter of our own men, should the need arise.

"Therefore, it is in your best interest to not go against anything that Captain Potter, Mr. Black, the first mate," he indicates to the man with the long black mane, "or I tell you. For if you do, I can guarantee that your time aboard the Masked Marauder will be short indeed."

The crowd remains silent as they all stare up at the man, his cold words sinking deep into their minds. The light-haired man steps back just as the long-haired one, Mr. Black (What an appropriate name), steps forward.

"The words that Mr. Lupin speaks are the truth," he shouts out, the harsh huskiness of his voice making the men around me shrink back. The contrast between him and the last speaker couldn't be more evident. "You are now part of a pirate crew, and you will like it, or face the consequences." Judging by the reactions of the crowd, no one wants to know exactly what those consequences are.

And without any ado, the three men take their leave, retreating back into the Captain's quarters and shutting the glass-plated doors behind them.

I say "retreating", but that's not really what it was. All three had a sort of gracefully and imposing swagger that carried them swiftly away from the crowd of men I am currently part of. It seemed that just by turning their backs, these three impossibly handsome men dismissed us without a word on the subject. Dismissed us like the lowly vermin we are.

The crowd around me begins to mutter amongst themselves about our captors. I hear a few exclaim that they'd rather jump overboard than be part of a pirate crew. I grin to myself, finding it funny that I had correctly labeled the looks on their faces earlier.

"Topher, would you mind, er, letting go of my arm?" Willie says, jolting me out of my reverie. I look down at my hand and release it immediately. I hadn't realized I'd been squeezing him so tightly.

"Alrigh', you lot! Gather 'round!" The little man, Mr. Pettigrew, shouts loudly over the muttering. All heads turn towards him as he continues, "Righ', now make a nice orderly line 'ere, and I'll jot down yer rankin' position." He settles himself clumsily into a chair behind a large table and places a large sheaf of parchment in front of him.

The men slowly begin to cluster around the table. The three of us are close to the front of the line, so our turn comes rather quickly.

"Names?" The man says gruffly, squinting up at Robin, Willie, and me.

As self-elected leader, I speak for us all, making sure to keep my eyes hard. "Christopher Thompson, William Nolan, and Robin Greene. We're Midshipmen, sir."

Mr. Pettigrew seems mildly impressed by this. "So ya' know how ta' operate the guns an' such?" He asks, shaking his fat head towards the cannons along the ship's deck behind him.

"Er..." I say, blinking. In truth, I had never really done _anything_ as a Midshipman. There hadn't really been time to learn.

Catching my hesitation, Robin says, "Of course, sir. We wouldn't be Midshipmen if we didn't." He sends me a look that says, _Play along_.

"Aye, sir, that's right," I add, hoping that he didn't notice my earlier delay in answering. Judging by the way he hastily scribbled something down next to our misspelled names, he didn't.

"You'll be needin' to see the cap'n," he says, looking back up at us with an unreadable expression on his face. It's quite odd, looking down on this paunchy little man. It's as if we're above him, and he seems to know it. "He'll prolly find use fer _you_."

He dismisses us, the great pig, and as we walk away from the table, the words he spoke sink in. _See the captain?_ I think, a frenzied panic settling over me. _I'd rather rot in hell_.

* * *

It seems to me that God works in mysterious ways. Why else would I have willingly walked into the Captain's quarters with Willie and Robin when we were summoned? No, it must be God. He must be laughing hysterically at this up in heaven. _The wee little lass is going to get her comeuppance, she is. _

_God_, I think as my fellow surviving Midshipmen and I walk down the length of the ship to the ornate doors that separate us from Captain Potter. _My vocabulary has really gone to the dogs. _

Anyway, the Captain calls the three of us into his quarters and we have no choice but to enter. Like any of us would go against this man.

"So, I hear tell that you are Midshipmen," he says. He's sitting in a grand armchair, maroon velvet with a deep cherry frame. The chair and his jacket, which is almost the same shade, set his dark hair and eyes into stark contrast.

I can feel the air escape out of my lungs just at the sight of him.

"That is correct, sir," Robin says from my right. I can hear a slight tremor in his voice despite his confident stance.

"And you are the only ones? Surely a British warship would have more than three Midshipmen."

A cold fury soaks into my blood at his thoughtless words. "There were six of us," I say, my voice nearly betraying my outwardly cool demeanor. "But three were killed when our ship was attacked."

I can feel both Robin and Willie shift beside me, and I can understand their concern - I'm mouthing off to a world famous pirate captain. But I cannot help but feel defiant towards this beautiful man in his lovely coat and fine velvet chair. He did, after all, order to have our ship ransacked, and therefore caused all of our losses.

The captain regards me silently for a long while. "I see," he says, turning his head and looking out the window to his right for a moment. Then his gaze fastens back on the three of us and he says in a curt tone, "You will then continue with your duties while on this ship, understand?" The three of us nod. "Splendid," he says flatly. "You may leave now."

We don't need to be told twice. Willie and Robin turn to leave and I follow them, but not without one last backwards glance at Captain Potter. He's looking out that window of his again, his expression unreadable. Then, as if sensing my gaze upon him, his eyes shift onto me. The two of us hold a staring contest for a few seconds until Robin hisses, "_Topher_," and pulls me back into the here and now by grabbing my arm. I narrow my eyes and throw the captain one last glare before turning my back on him, my head held high.

Once we're a good distance from the captain's quarters, Robin rounds on me. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, staring at the captain like that? He could've killed you where you stood!"

I'm taken aback for a moment. I don't think I've ever seen Robin so worked up over anything. I blink, then smile, recognizing the brotherly affection he has towards me. "Thanks for worrying so much about me," I say. I resist the urge to hug him, but only just.

Robin blushes, muttering, "I wasn't worried," but I know better. I reach up (on my toes) and ruffle his hair.

"So," I say, detangling my hands from Robin's curly locks, which he pats down frantically, scowling, and clapping my hands together. "Which one of you wants to teach me how to be a Midshipman?"

The two look at one another before Robin drops his head into his hands and says, "How is it that our ship gets blown up and we _still_ have so much work to do?"

I laugh, a bit surprised by this outburst. At least one of us is being optimistic.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I know it's short, ok? You'll get over it, trust me. 

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


	18. Family Fights

A/N: Hello, my lovely reviewers!

If you're new to this story and decide to read all of the chapters in one sitting, **please** **do not review for each one individually**. I appreciate the thought, but I do not have time nor the space in my inbox to recieve 18 reviews from everyone. If you're just starting my fic, please review from them all in one fell swoop.

So the fifth Bloody Jack book has been out since September and I didn't even know about it until, like, yesterday. So I of course had to go buy it. I mean, for the sake of Sway, I _had_ to. Anyway, thank you very much to the original Bloody Jack book for, as usual, providing me with all the information about ship parts and Midshipmen duties. Plus the book was amazing. Jaimy should die.

And! The new Georgia Nicholson novel came out, Stop in the Name of Pants! It was really good, so if you haven't read the series and want something to make you die of laughter in the middle of your English class, read this book!

I would like to thank scissorsthatrun for her input on this fic in deleterius on LiveJournal. She had a few nasty things to say, but I think it may help me to be a better writer. If you want to see her comments, it's at www (dot) community (dot) livejournal (dot) com/deleterius/2858635 (dot) html?view63307147#t63307147. Oh, and by the way, the Intrepid is not the name of the ship in PotC - it's the Intercepter.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, all 109 of you! It means a lot to me that you guys stuck with Sway despite my hiatus there. Thanks so much!

Well, onto chapter 18!

Disclaimer: You know, considering how long it takes to put a chapter out, you might think that I actually _am_ J.K. Rowling. But the truth is, I'm not. Oh well.

* * *

"Alright, first thing's first," Robin says, his hands on his hips, his back to the wind and surf. He looks about as regal as a fine naval captain, and I nearly start laughing at his suddenly serious demeanor. He shoots me a look, and I quickly pull an innocent facade over my snickering face.

"Mr. Fuller told you the names of all the masts and stuff, right?" he asks, taking a few steps over to where Willie and I are standing.

"Um..." I reply, racking my brain to see if there's any information still there. "He did, but I don't really recall much."

Robin sighs dramatically. "Well, then, do you remember how...how Robert taught you how to climb the rigging?" The way he paused before saying his cousin's name sends a small tremor through me. I had forgotten that they were so close. Robin must be missing him terribly.

"Yes," I say after a moment, not looking him in the eye. "But if _you_ remember, that whole escapade ending with quite a distracting disaster."

Robin blinks at me a moment, as if not comprehending, until Willie says, "He fell off and broke Jack's ribs, remember?"

I had not been prepared to hear Willie, sweet, innocent Willie, say the name. He had been so devastated by the whole event, I'd've thought he would have sealed off those memories. This too sends a strong tremor through me, and I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment.

"Oh," Robin says, finally recalling that day. "That's right. I forgot," he adds, shifting slightly in front of me. "I'm sorry."

"No," I say, opening my eyes and looking up at him. "S'not your fault. We all share the memories..."

We all stand there on the deck of the Masked Marauder, none of us saying anything, but the words that hover in the air around us fill the voids. I wish for a moment that I wasn't dressed up as a lad, but instead that I had met Robin and Willie when it was still public knowledge that I am a girl. I wish I could have been like a sister to them, that I could hold them to me and comfort them in times like this, when the comfort was greatly needed.

But I can't - they think I'm a lad, and if I tired to hug them now...well, it wouldn't be good for me or them, let's just say that. It makes me feel so powerless, like I'm completely useless, the girl who can't comfort the people she loves.

I take a deep breath and look up to see Robin and Willie both looking down at the deck. I open my mouth to say something, but before I can get any words out, a small female rushes up behind me and speaks first.

"Topher, I've been looking everywhere for you," Lottie says, a slight twinkle in her eye. She glances at the two boys on either side of me. "What're you doing?"

"Robin and Willie were just showing me how to go about being a midshipman. Seems my training was cut short, and the captain ordered us to continue with our duties, so..."

"The captain?" Lottie asks, her brow furrowed. "James told you to continue being a midshipman?"

"Yes," I reply. I notice both Robin and Willie shift next to me, and I realize how odd it must sound for someone to call the captain by his given name alone. Recalling what I first thought of Lottie when I met her, I seek to rectify the situation. "That is what your cousin said." I spit out the word 'cousin,' simply because after everything that Robin, Willie, and I dragged up today, I'm not feeling particularly grateful to our dear captain.

"But...but he said that you were to be my assistant..." Lottie says, her eyes looking at me in confusion. "Let me ask him again..." And before I can stop her, she runs off to the captain's quarters.

"...Topher?" Willie says quietly, looking up at me with huge eyes.

"You're going to become her assistant?" Robin asks, his voice disbelieving. "Why? She's the captain's bloody _cousin_, for God's sake."

"I know," I say, casting my mind desperately around for something to tell them. I can't very well say that I'm becoming Lottie's assistant to stop the crew from having their way with me, can I? Unfortunately, it looks like I'm gonna have to.

"When I first woke up, I was in real bad shape," I say, not looking at the boys in front of me. "Lottie helped me a lot, saved me, really. And remember how you guys asked if...if I was a lass when I first came aboard?" They both nod, so I continue. "Well, she thought that a lot of the crew here would think so too, but unlike you, Lottie thought that these bastards would, well...try to...have their way with me, because of how I look," I finish, my face turning quite red.

"But..." Robin says, looking a bit on the concerned side. "But you're a lad, so they wouldn't do that, right?"

"I don't know," I reply, looking up at him. "But I don't really want to find out."

"We wouldn't let them do anything," Willie says, taking a step towards me and jutting his chest out.

I smile at him and reach over, tousling his hair. "Thanks, lad," I say, genuinely pleased that he is so determined to stop this ship's men from ravishing me. But I have seen a bit of the world, and I know that Willie and Robin are both, above anything else, boys. And boys can be killed for insolence, especially here on the high seas.

"But I can't put all of us in danger like that. I'm sorry," I say, pulling my hand back and straightening up. As I do, the doors to the captain's quarters open and Lottie steps back out, coming to a stop next to me.

"He said that you can still be my assistant, but on down times you will still work with the other midshipmen." She looks at Robin and Willie, both of whom stare at her as if she were delivering them a personal death sentence.

"Well, that's not so bad," I say more to them than to her. "Lottie, this is Robin Greene and William Nolan, midshipmen of His Majesty the King's Royal Navy." I indicate to both of the boys, who incline their heads but do not smile. "Robin and Willie, this is Lottie Clark, healer aboard the Masked Marauder."

Lottie smiles and bobs into a slight curtsy, seemingly unaffected by the lads' not-so-subtle hostility towards her. "It is a pleasure to meet you both." She turns back to me. "Shall we go get your quarters ready?"

"Aye," I reply, but when Lottie turns to go, I hold back, looking at my fellow midshipmen. "Buck up," I say, tapping them both under the chin with my fingers. "I'm still a midshipman, and we will still see each other."

Robin smiles, but it seems only a fraction of what he is normally capable of. "We know, we're just giving you a hard time. Go on then."

I send a sad smile to both of them and say, "See you soon," before taking off after Lottie and closing the door behind me.

* * *

"So, you met James, did you?"

I look up into Lottie's big brown eyes as the two of us clear out the supply closet that is to be my room. "Ah, yes," I reply, casting my eyes back down.

"And...?" She seems to be edging around the actual question she wishes to ask. "What happened?"

"What d'you mean?" I ask, recalling how, at the time, I had wanted to strangle this girl's gorgeous cousin.

"Well," she says, sighing as she dusts away years of cobwebs, "I was wondering about your, er, reaction to meeting him."

"My reaction?" She nods, turning so that her back is to me as she sets her feather duster down and rummages through some bottles on the table on the opposite wall. "Well, he seems to be as any pirate captain would be. He's very...confident, and rather infuriating, to be honest. But, aside from that...this may sound rather odd to you, Lottie, since he _is_ your cousin, but I thought that he was incredibly handsome."

Lottie freezes, her hands stilling over the bottles. "You...thought he was...handsome?"

"Yes," I say, surprised by her unbelieving tone. "Why, do you think he's not?"

She turns to face me, her brow creased. "No, I...it's just...you...you...you are unbelievable."

I blink at her from my place on the floor. "I beg your pardon?"

"You...when you first got here, you were sobbing about how James...killed that boy you were in love with. And now," she swallows and grips the edges of the table behind her. "Now you're telling me that you think my cousin - the man who ordered your lover dead - is handsome? Do you no longer grieve your Jack's death?"

"Of course I do," I reply, my temper rising. "But you asked what I thought of him, and I simply told you my reaction."

Lottie puts her hands on her hips, and I am surprised to see how defiant and haughty she looks - so very different than the kind and quiet girl I first met.

"So the only thing you noticed about James, my cousin, the man who practically _pulled the trigger that ended your lover's_ _life_, was that he was handsome. There...there must be something hideously wrong with you to think that."

I stare at her, my anger all but dissipating. "I..." I start, but there's nothing I can say to that. There's nothing to say at all.

My silence seems to make Lottie even more disgusted. She stares at me as if I am some sort of insect that needs crushing. "And here I thought that you were such a nice, loyal person, to want to avenge your lover's death. I can see that I was wrong." She pushes herself off the table and propels herself towards the door.

"Lottie, wait, I-"

"Yes?" she says, spinning around to face me, her eyes flashing. It is very odd to think that Lottie - sweet, kind Lottie - could be _angry_.

"I..." I start, but I close my mouth quickly. Again, there's nothing to say.

Lottie clicks her tongue impatiently and spins back towards the door, gracefully opening it and walking out, her head held high. I blink at the doorway, my eyes still on the spot where Lottie was just standing. I had never thought that she act be so...disappointed, so angry.

Angry at me.

And she was right. I cover my face with my hands and let out a deep breath. She was right.

Jack's face floats into my mind, and I squeeze my eyes tight against the wave of misery that threatens to engulf me. Jack - even his name brings me pain.

I loved him - love him - or at least, I thought I did. But...if I loved him, would I be ogling over the man who carried out his death sentence? No, no, I would not. I should have been filled with blind hatred at merely the thought of _Captain_ Potter. But instead, all I felt when I saw him was overwhelmed by his handsomeness.

I pull my hands from my face. How I disgust myself.

And worse, how it would disgust Robin and Willie had they heard what I had just said. I have grown to love them like brothers - isn't it betrayal towards them that I should find the man who killed our comrades, their brothers in the literal and figurative sense, resplendent?

I sit back down on the ground that I don't remember leaving, and stare unseeing at the wall across from me. A memory, albeit a clouded and despairing one, rises to the surface of my mind.

_I am officially swearing off all men. I don't need this kind of mess in my life, thank you._

I realize now that had it not been for the men in my life, I would not be here. If it hadn't been for Potter, Jack would still be alive. If it hadn't been for Jack, I would not have a broken heart. If it were not for Snape, I would still be at home. If it were not for my father, I would...what? Still be on the streets? My heart screams at me for lumping the one man who truly loved me into that category.

And what then of Robin and Willie? I _do_ love them as brothers, and I'm sure they love me as such as well. And I know, in the very core of my being, that had they died as well, I would have been lost.

I look around Lottie's empty room and sigh heavily. I've really made a mess of things, haven't I?

* * *

A/N: You have no idea how good it feels to finally, _finally_ update this. The next one will not take nearly as long, I promise.

Well, please review!

Hugs and fuzzles

MM360


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